


Building Bridges (Over Old Roads)

by thatrandomnpc



Series: Bridges [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: A primer by a couple of grumpy ninjas, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And overcoming them, M/M, Trust Issues, Uchiha Izuna Lives, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2018-12-13 23:10:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11770398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatrandomnpc/pseuds/thatrandomnpc
Summary: Two years ago, Madara reached out to Hashirama when Izuna was mortally wounded. They met by the river where they once dreamed of peace with their little brothers in tow. Two years ago, Tobirama agreed to heal the wound he made at Hashirama's behest, and the beginnings of a treaty was born. One year ago, Konahagakure was founded on that treaty.Madara's sight began to deteriorate long before that.(Or Madara takes a calculated risk, and building a little bit of trust between former enemies goes a long way.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well... The idea for this just kind of hit me and wouldn't leave me alone. This one might be a little slower to update since I have a general idea of how it's going to go, but nothing quite like Riverside. That said this one is also going to be substantially shorter, with maybe three to four chapters in all. I wanted to go ahead and get the first part out and see if there was interest in continuing it on here. There's a little playing around with the timeline line, which I've admittedly brushed under the rug of "canon divergence." 
> 
> This work has had no beta reader, so all mistakes are mine. 
> 
> As always, I hope you all enjoy!

No matter Hashirama’s assertions to the contrary, Tobirama is hardly unfamiliar with identifying gaps in his knowledge. After all, the mark of any good route of inquiry is to first identify such a gap and _then_ seek to rectify it. While he believes there to be more than a little merit in corroborating suspect findings, he personally finds far more satisfaction in pushing boundaries rather than reinforcing old ones.

In present circumstances, he is more than aware that he’s stepping in complete shadows, blind. Normally that knowledge would be an advantage to his motivation. When Uchiha Madara is involved, however, Tobirama cannot help but feel that the shadows hold a den of particularly cantankerous vipers.

It does not help that Madara is the one to approach him—at the privacy of Tobirama’s own home--outside of work, no less.

He watches the Uchiha on his doorstep warily. The potential reward must be high if Madara is willing to risk conceding proverbial high ground to Tobirama to begin with.

Madara arches a brow expectantly, “Common courtesy dictates you invite me inside.” Tobirama folds his arms and doesn’t move an inch. The veneer of Madara’s careful patience shows the first crack in narrowed black eyes. “I have business to discuss with you,” he tries again, “A private matter.”

Tobirama cannot sense outright deception, but such a fine detail is almost impossible to detect in a trained shinobi, no matter his sensory prowess. What he can sense is the tight coil of conflict and anger, but that much is already visible in his defensive posture. So it’s to be an argument over some other suggestion Tobirama has brought forth, without Hashirama to pull them apart.

Tobirama steps back but keeps his awareness on Madara. He hardly suspects an outright physical attack—not without the forewarning of an argument on both sides—but old paranoia dies hard. Peace is not something that is natural to Tobirama as it is to Hashirama, who already wears it like a well-love coat. Izuna calls him a paranoid bastard; Tobirama is quick to point out that Izuna has yet to wander the relative safety of the village without at least one weapon and a backup hidden on his person.

The fact that they speak at all about anything other than coordinating Research and Development’s new involvement with the spy rings perhaps undercuts their arguments against one another.

( _A year into peace, Tobirama still does not know what to make of finding an equal in curiosity—if perhaps in a different medium—in a man he has so long considered an enemy. A man he very nearly killed._ )

If Madara desires the guise of proper decorum, Tobirama supposes he will give the Uchiha little room to complain on that front. The motions of making tea are familiar and give him time to assess the situation before they inevitably rile each other into another fight.

Madara waits, but it isn’t patiently. For such a temperamental man, he can be unexpectedly still and careful when it suits him. This is not that. Dark eyes search over everything from the stacks of reference materials for Tobirama’s latest project to the trinkets on the shelves. His foot taps occasionally but silently. His shoulders are squared, and his arms are crossed in a defensive posture. Clearly he’s stopped at home between returning to the village from his mission and arriving at Tobirama’s door: the familiar armor has been put away, and the shallow cut on his cheek has clearly been cleaned.

Tobirama frowns at the cut. It follows the curve of Madara’s left cheek. Thin. No more than a graze. What catches Tobirama’s attention is that it sits less than two centimeters below his left eye. 

Madara takes notice of Tobirama’s gaze and turns his head as though he’s looking at something else to put the cut out of view.

Suspicious. Tobirama has seen him sacrifice a deeper wound to the arm to prevent something similar before. Uchiha are notoriously protective of their prized doujutsu, and their infamous clan head is often more of an extreme case rather than an exception. He can’t imagine a few foreign samurai causing even that little bit of damage.

Tobirama couches his curiosity in favor of serving tea. He will ask Izuna later, he decides. A weakness in either Hashirama or Madara, given their optimistic but still tenuous standing with Fire Country’s lords, is not something they can afford. Not when there are other clans who are still hesitant to join the village while any such doubt remains that peace will last.

Madara finally takes a seat when prompted but only takes a cursory sip of the tea. Tobirama sees it for the stalling tactic it is. Yet another piece that feels entirely out of place. Madara is a force of nature: he does not hesitate when his sights are set.

“Your urgent business?” Tobirama prompts. He will not allow himself to become unsettled by this change of pace.

Madara sets down the tea and purposefully meets Tobirama’s eyes. Tobirama, for his part, can never quite tell if it’s intended to be a threat or if that's his own paranoia from a lifetime of facing off against the sharingan. He suspects both in Madara’s case.

What he does _not_ suspect is the carefully bland “I’m going blind.”

… _what?_

“What?”

There is a shameful fifteen seconds in which Tobirama is forces himself to regain his composure from the unadulterated shock. His eyes dip to the shallow cut. Madara’s grim frown confirms Tobirama’s assumptions about it. He clears his throat. “Izuna and my brother are overseeing mission dispatches; if this will affect your mission status, they should be informed,” he regroups, “This information hardly concerns me.”

Ah. There’s the scowl. “You,” he grits out irritably, “are _infuriatingly_ obtuse sometimes. Has it not occurred to you that Izuna already knows?”

It has. Particularly since that would explain the tail end of the argument he’d overheard prior to Madara’s leaving regarding Izuna using his influence over dispatch to assign Madara mundane diplomatic missions hardly suiting his skill sets. He has noticed the tendency of the Mangekyo to at least damage the anatomy of the eye: bursting vessels and bleeding like viscous tears. Bleeding from the eyes is hardly what Tobirama would consider a marker of good health, not the least of which because of the potential damage from repeated stress.

It's also a rare Uchiha that Tobirama considers even remotely close to a standard archetype of model sanity.

Interesting but ultimately irrelevant at the moment. Tobirama raises a brow, “Your clan has somehow overlooked the need for healers specializing in your most prized bloodline?” He doubts that. Very much so. Therefore, something is at play here, and Tobirama is not entirely fond of making decisions based on incomplete information. The best way to pry information from a steely Madara is to make him angry... which typically has the unfortunate side effect of making  _Tobirama_ angry in turn. 

“Of course we have healers,” Madara snaps, “You would know as much if you bothered to listen to _any_ of the reasons I listed regarding your inane scheme to isolate—” He trails off irritably, visibly gathers the tatters of his frayed temper in the face of Tobirama’s lack of impression, and settles himself into an admittedly impressive display of casual authority. He’s regrouping—looking for a new tactic. “Uchiha medics are exceptional,” he says, purposefully looking over and dismissing Tobirama, who barely resists pointing out that Izuna would be dead if not for Tobirama’s prowess with chakra control superseding those same healers. “However, in regards to the sharingan, they’re blinded by ritual and tradition.”

He frowns to cover up a wince. Tobirama agrees: poor choice of verbs, given the topic.

“So it’s use of a fully evolved sharingan that's causing your vision to deteriorate,” Tobirama deduces, “An issue I assume isn’t unique to you.”

Madara bristles like an angry cat. Tobirama shamelessly enjoys wresting the upper hand back, which only seems to incite him further. “Before the thought enters your head, I will _not_ allow you to use this information to undermine my clan for your petty grudge.”

Tobirama tilts his head. He remembers Itama once likened him to a curious cat over the gesture. Kawarama had immediately corrected him: ‘ _Only if that cat’s about to smack something_.’ “The Uchiha I hold a grudge against are those who would undo the efforts of my brother and this village—intentionally or otherwise,” he counters irritably, “Namely you and your elders.”

That raises Madara’s hackles completely, “ _Hypocrite_. Half of your efforts would’ve put my clan at a disadvantage and in isolation.”

Tobirama disagrees. There is delicate balance between appeasing the elders of both clans and a slow integration away from single-minded loyalty to a clan over the village as a whole. Perhaps that isn’t ideal, but he prefers that to… _incidents_ that could easily destabilize everything they’ve worked for. Regardless. “You didn’t come here to argue politics,” he points out, refusing to raise to the bait this time. He’s already intrigued by the information presented to him. What he’s already inferred from Madara’s clipped statements is more than enough deterrent. “Your healers have a solution then?” he surmises, “One that doesn’t satisfy you.”

Madara’s posture goes subtly rigid. There’s shadows in his eyes—the brief flickers of rage and desperation Tobirama remembers from that night by the river with bloody hands, alight with healing chakra, pressed against Izuna’s side and the wound he’d made with those very same hands.

(He’d understood the options the moment he’d looked at Hashirama’s face, the desperation behind his pleas to agree, and the forming hate and madness laying in wait in Madara's whole being: Tobirama could save Izuna, or the their elder brothers would fight to the bloody death there, at the river where they’d once dreamt of peace. Tobirama had feared the latter had the potential to break something so very precious in Hashirama no matter the outcome of the battle.

He would not allow that.)

“I will _not_ steal Izuna’s eyes,” Madara seethes as though isn’t his first time saying those very words.

Tobirama’s mind is silent for seconds before the information processes. He frowns because that makes no sense on a technical level as a solution given his understanding of chakra and anatomy. Uchiha ocular anatomy is doubtlessly unique and heavily tied to emotion if he had to guess. He wonders if it’s the extreme emotion involved with such a traumatic reality rather than the physicality of switching eyes because, honestly, _only_ the Uchiha seem capable of such a drastic, morbid solution to a problem uniquely their own; however…

Oh. Apparently he’s been thinking too long. Madara appears all but ready to storm back outside.

“You understand,” Tobirama states bluntly, long past the point of treading carefully with this particular man, “that I would need to physically examine your eyes—possibly Izuna’s—as well your clan’s records regarding prior procedures?”

Madara’s eyes narrow dangerously. _That_ is undoubtedly a threat. “You can have mine only. What you need from clan records, you may ask me.”

Tobirama isn’t a stranger to spite—particularly spite directed at Madara. He isn’t Hashirama. A significant portion of him wants to exile Madara from his home and return to establishing a reasonable budget for the village before they’re forced to dip further into clan funds and therefore risk antagonizing clan elders again. He frowns as he recalls his own thoughts earlier about perceived weaknesses in Hashirama and Madara. In Madara, particularly, given that he, with his impressive doujutsu, is the only one currently acceptable to the Hyuuga in negotiation, much to the Uchiha’s continued (and very vocal) frustration.

( _When he'd asked Izuna why he wasn't acceptable, Izuna had curled his nose, mentioned stiffing a Hyuuga clan head, and something involving a kidnapping, copious amounts of alcohol, and a small forest fire. Tobirama had not asked for an elaboration._ )

“Fine,” he finally agrees, moving to take a seat less than a foot from Madara. He lifts a hand, condensing his chakra down to the pale glow of medical ninjutsu. Madara watches him as though he’s a viper. Interesting. Apparently that feeling is mutual. “Close your eyes,” he instructs blandly, “I need understand what I’m to fix.”

The signs of tension and mistrust are easy to read: the balled up fists, narrowed eyes, and squared shoulders. Apparently, Tobirama realizes, he expected to be turned away. Interesting that he even tried. Slowly, ever so slowly, Madara obeys.

The moment Tobirama begins the cursory scan, Madara’s jaw clenches. Tobirama does not fault him this. In this position, he could sever Madara's optic nerve and chakra flow in an instant. It isn’t the actions of a trusting man; this is desperation. He plans to use himself as a lab rat, Tobirama realizes with sudden, starling clarity. If Madara’s eyesight is deteriorating, he assumes Izuna's isn’t all that far behind. If Tobirama can fix it without blinding Izuna in the process, he will apply it his younger brother.

It’s the sort of reckless thing in an otherwise suspicious man Tobirama would have done— _did, with the ultimately failed plan for the Edo Tensei_ —for Itama and Kawarama. He would do no less for Hashirama. That is… not unexpected at all really. There are few who take familial bonds as seriously as the Uchiha.

“Uchiha tradition dictates you take Izuna’s eyes,” he prompts, partially surprising even himself, “Why?”

Madara’s scowl is impressive, even with his eyes shut. The tension doesn’t leave him—it merely redirects. As he talks, Tobirama pays it half a mind. Something to think about when his senses aren’t mostly focused at the strange, and admittedly fascinating, variation of the Uchiha ocular structure and pathways. Madara is correct about the damage at least. Even if Tobirama can’t pinpoint precisely the cause, the chakra pathways themselves are… _burned out_ , he would almost say, if such a thing could exist. Scarred, perhaps is the better word. He’s never quite understood how physically painful activating the advanced form of the sharingan must actually be.

“Activate your sharingan,” he instructs when Madara is finished talking.

He feels it the instant Madara does. Chakra floods under his fingers like sparks across his senses. By all rights, it _should_ clash with Tobirama's, given their respective elemental strengths. It does, to a point, when he inspects it, but perhaps that’s the most interesting part. The contrast it creates is... interesting.

He focuses on the pathways now opened by the sharingan. There’s disruption in the flow up chakra further up the pathway. Slight inflammation on the optic nerve itself, following the same pathway. Interesting, and likely contributing to the vision loss, but he can't find the cause in one sitting. 

Tobirama eases the worst of the inflammation and heals the cut on a whim. Judging by the particularly deep breath sighed out against his arm, he’s suspecting he’s just cut down on what has been moderate headache. He ebbs his own chakra so that he can put distance—the table, in fact—back between them. Interesting. That still doesn’t explain how implanting a new set of eyes would fix anything. Given that Madara is convinced it’s worked in the past, Tobirama will need to identify the problem by that particularly extreme solution before they move forward to a potential new one.

Madara also said that he had reason to believe the procedure didn’t always work, after all.

“Well?” Madara prompts, opening his eyes to pin Tobirama with a look.

The sharingan’s basic form is still active. Tobirama cannot help but see the challenge in it: one made in turn for allowing a Senju, who is not Hashirama, so close to his prized weapon. Tobirama accepts, if only because his death now would be worth the warning it would provide Hashirama about the village’s co-founder.

Also, perhaps, because—as Touka often puts it—he _is_ something of a ‘stubborn bastard’ when he wants to be.

(And, more than that, some small part of him has downgraded Madara from ‘potential destroyer of loved ones’ to ‘particularly infuriating colleague’ not long after watching Izuna drink him under the table for the third time in a row.)

The tomoe spin lazily in a sea of red. They’re beautify, objectively; true works of art in both form and function. Discomfort still settles like static on Tobirama’s long-honed survival instinct for looking at them straight on. Since the founding of the village, he’s felt little like this.

“I’ve found symptoms of damage, but I will need time to think on the cause—much less a solution,” he reports, “You’ll have to be patient, Uchiha.”

Madara frowns, but it’s not the outright scowl and posturing from before when Tobirama went out his way to imply an insult. This look is… considering. Cautious, but less so than before. He wonders if he imagines the tomoe spinning just a fraction of a second faster for a moment before those fearsome eyes are engulfed in their usual black. “Believe me, Senju,” he replies, “I’m patient when I need to be.”

He leaves without saying much else, insulting or otherwise.

Tobirama considers the exchange for a time before his curiosity gets the better of him.

Surely he has a few texts on ocular anatomy and chakra pathways laying around somewhere. At the very least, he can note what he’s seen and work from there.

 

 

 

Tobirama’s responsibilities keep him busy for the better part of two weeks. He, Mito, and Izuna—each previously in charge of the financial dealings of their respective clans—pour over the approximated income from village-sanctioned missions over the previous year and attempt to calculate a reasonable budget for each of the budding departments within the village. Hashirama, who childishly persists he’s allergic to numbers that aren’t set in neat columns, mostly leaves them to it. He drags Madara, who is hardly complaining about avoiding being locked in a room with Tobirama and Mito, along with him as a convenient excuse.

If Izuna is aware that his brother has approached Tobirama, he says nothing about it. Which means that Izuna is clearly unaware of the circumstances because that is exactly the sort of thing about which he would have something to say. Izuna is… not nearly as subtle as Tobirama once thought, he’s realized. At least, not when he isn’t actively trying to be.

At night, when he’s finished filing through the paperwork he sneaks home past Touka, he digs through anatomy notes and texts he’s collected over the years. Uchiha chakra networks appear to be so heavily specialized that little of it applies, but he refuses to go into such a delicate study without as much knowledge as he can amass.

When he comes by little in the way of progress, he finds his opportunity in the form of an administrative building empty other than himself and Madara. With Izuna off on a check-in with an old contact and Hashirama and Mito greeting the latest round of Daimyo emissaries, Tobirama is left to finish the most immediate of Hashirama’s paperwork while Madara is presumably picking up Izuna’s work.

“Does your sight deteriorate with each use of the mangekyo?” he asks somewhere between rejecting a request for frankly outlandish funding for a relatively simple—if ultimately pointless—development project and moving on to the stack of missives and requests Hashirama hadn’t gotten around to sorting into ‘accepted’ and ‘rejected’ piles.

There’s a _clunk_ Tobirama only identifies as a brush hitting the desk when he looks up. Madara frowns disapprovingly, but that odd look is back in his eyes, “Are you always this abrupt?”

Tobirama stares, unimpressed, before pulling aside the first of the pages to sign by proxy for his brother.

“Of course you are,” Madara mutters as though personally offended by the lack of response. The shift of his brush picks up soon after. “If it does, I can't tell the difference without repeated uses.”

“Then I would like to examine your eyes when you activate it,” Tobirama says. He picks up the first of the next wave of requests and proceeds to make new stacks for those he estimates his brother will wish to accept or reject. He feels Madara’s gaze on him but sternly ignores it in favor of his work.

“Fine,” Madara decides, “But you’ll come to my home this time.”

Ultimately Tobirama agrees, if only to avoid the inevitable questions if Hashirama gets word the Uchiha patriarch has been in his home repeatedly. He suspects that’s at least part of the reason Madara makes his declaration anyway.

Perhaps he has more sense than Tobirama gives him credit for after all. In regards to Hashirama, at least.

 

 

 

Tobirama takes a detour when he leaves the administrative building to collect his notes and materials with which to write new ones.

Madara does not wait, not that Tobirama particularly expects him to, which leaves the Senju alone among the whispers and stares of the Uchiha when he sets foot among their homes. Tobirama ignores them easily enough and rather delights in the idea that Madara will have to explain this to the elders clustered around to watch.

…Perhaps he enjoys it a bit too much, as he doesn’t notice the child until there’s a sudden impact against his legs and a soft _thud_ in front of him.

The Uchiha, previously content to whisper and stare, suddenly go tense. Tobirama ignores them to find the source of the impact—a young boy—shaking his head and looking up at the pale-haired Senju. The boy blinks three times with wide, dark eyes, and suddenly flushes red with embarrassment. He scrambles up to his feet, dusts himself off, and smiles shyly while he rubs at the back of a head full of wild, dark curls. “Sorry!” he exclaims with a few awkward, half-aborted hand motions, “I uh… You’re _him_ , right? The Senju that’s too fast for the sharingan?”

Tobirama… does not actually know what to make of this child.

Fear, he understands. Senju children this boy’s age—old enough to have been on the cusp of entering the battlefield a year ago—flee the very sight of Madara and Izuna. He’s hardly a stranger to Uchiha children reacting the same to him. Only Hashirama and his natural cheer and general air of levity seems immune.

This child knows one of his most dangerous techniques—the one that nearly ended Izuna’s life—but hasn’t run the other way yet.

Intriguing.

“Hiraishin is a temporal and spatial displacement,” Tobirama corrects.

He senses more than hears the collective, mostly proverbial sighs of relief from the Uchiha spectators. The boy’s eyes widen—not with fear but _enthusiasm_. “Wait, so you _actually teleport?_ ”

Tobirama nods, more than a little surprised that a child of no more than twelve is following what would have Hashirama tuning out already, “More or less.”

The boy grins and grabs Tobirama’s sleeve. The Uchiha immediately go back on the defensive. Tobirama… is mildly concerned for this enthusiastic boy’s self-preservation instinct. Not that a non-hostile child has anything to fear from Tobirama, Uchiha or otherwise, but the boy should hardly be aware of that given the rumors about him. “Could you teach me?”

Tobirama considers him a moment, once again ignoring the spiking tensions of those around them. (If the boy notices, he gives no indication, which leads Tobirama to suspect he’s accustomed to this level of scrutiny.) He can sense a substantial amount of chakra for a child his age. Not uncommon among Uchiha.

The idea of taking on students has always been quite appealing. Now, with the village… he supposes he could do just that.

“Is it not polite to first introduce yourself to a prospective teacher?” he asks with a raised brow.

The boy flushes red again. He reminds Tobirama of Kawarama when Tobirama would tease him in much the same way, which aches in a place that has dulled with time but will never truly heal. The boy gathers himself and bows low to Tobirama, “I’m Uchiha Kagami.”

Tobirama returns the gesture, which seems to send the Uchiha into another round of shock and wary confusion, “Senju Tobirama.”

Kagami smiles wide and pleased. It immediately turns sheepish, “So um... Would you teach me?”

“Sealing is difficult art to master,” Tobirama warns, “There are other skills you must learn first.” There’s no way to know if any student will take to it until long after work has begun.

Kagami nods seriously, “I’m a hard worker. I promise.”

“Very well,” Tobirama replies, “Lead me to your clan head’s home, and I’ll take it up with him.”

Kagami shudders for a moment before he swallows and collects himself. Tobirama files that information away to contemplate later. “Okay,” Kagami agrees, coaxing Tobirama to follow with the grip still on his sleeve, “But Madara-sama is going to yell.”

 

 

 

Madara doesn’t yell, but he does eye Kagami suspiciously the instant he opens the door. “If you broke into the Senju compound this time…”

Kagami frowns deeply. If he’s intimidated by Madara, he doesn’t show it. “No, Madara-sama.”

Madara’s disapproving frown deepens enough that Kagami takes a step back and shifts to the left, just shy of hiding partially behind Tobirama. Now that Tobirama knows what to look for, he can almost see the way Madara’s eyes are not entirely focused. He’s noticed that a lot over the past two weeks. He suspects the damage is worse than he plays it off as.

“That’s what you said about the Sarutobi compound,” Madara says dryly.

Whatever notions Kagami had of hiding are gone. He flushes an embarrassed red and meets his clan head’s stare head on. “I told Izuna-sama I was visiting a friend,” he argues, then deflates a bit sheepishly, “Hiruzen just… kind of forgot to tell his family I was invited.”

Madara sighs as though that’s one headache dodged and glances at Tobirama. Tobirama, for his part, recognizes the look immediately: the one Madara sometimes directs at Hashirama or Izuna when he’s looking for confirmation. He’s just… never been on the receiving end of it save for the few times when Hashirama’s antics reached an extreme.

Tobirama places a hand on Kagami’s shoulder to calm him. It works apparently, even if it does cause Madara’s suspicion to shift right back to Tobirama. “Kagami led me here,” he explains, “He’s caused no trouble—quite the opposite.”

Kagami beams proudly. Madara snorts and all but rolls his eyes, but the tension has notably slacked in his form in favor of a similar brand of cautious curiosity to that night two weeks ago. It’s… odd, being under that scrutiny without the open hostility on either side. Odd, but not entirely unpleasant. If nothing else, it puts Tobirama more at ease that perhaps Madara is not quite as inflexibly stubborn as he once thought.

“Naturally _you_ would be the one to say so,” Madara finally says. Tobirama frowns, otherwise non-pulsed, and refuses to merit that comment with an answer. Soon enough, Madara drops his gaze back to Kagami, “Don’t you have errands to run?”

Kagami looks between the two of them and then wisely nods and backs off the porch. He holds up a hand to wave cheerfully with a smile and a “See you around, sensei!” before he’s off down the road.

That, apparently, is enough to merit the strangled cry of “’ _Sensei?!’”_

Tobirama will not deny the small, satisfied smirk it merits.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I never actually expected to get the frankly amazing positive response to this story as I did from the first chapter. This ship may be a rare-pair, but the people sailing it are undeniably awesome! Thank you all SO much for the support. It made my day reading all of the wonderful comments and seeing the kudos and subscriptions. As such, I'm so sorry it took so long to update! I had a pretty nasty run-in with some food poisoning, which put me way behind in a few things I had to catch back up before I could focus on writing again. 
> 
> The good news is that all of that is over, and I will finally be responding personally to all of your lovely comments on chapter one tomorrow after work since I've haven't had a chance to yet! I'm so sorry I haven't been able to yet, since that's one of my favorite things to do to motivate me to post a new chapter 
> 
> Anyway, without further ado, here's chapter two. Again, I don't have a beta, so all mistakes are things I missed in editing. I hope you all continue to enjoy!

Tobirama expects the inevitable outburst from Madara the moment he steps through the door.

He’s hardly a stranger to the ebb and build of tension between them—particularly the latter. He anticipates it while Madara uses an arm to brush aside what is doubtlessly Izuna’s characteristic clutter at the table to make space. He braces for it while Madara’s suspicious gaze falls on the hand-copies, annotated diagrams, and references he spreads out in order of what Tobirama has anticipated to be of more immediate use. It doesn’t come yet. Not when Tobirama settles well within the bounds of both of their typical personal space to press a hand to each of Madara’s temples.

All he receives is a wary look to which he answers immediately, “I want to compare differences in damage between both eyes.” He intentionally leaves out that he’d invented it after reading about aliments affecting eyes unevenly and had only tested it out on himself the night before. Apparently the comment is enough that Madara settles back into his defensive, cross-armed posture and shuts his eyes.

Nothing has changed in two weeks. Tobirama is not entirely surprised: Madara’s only missions have focused around diplomacy with the Hyuuga. Hardly the sort of thing requiring combat skills. “Sharingan,” he prompts once he’s adjusted to the fuller picture the new method allows him. As soon as Madara obeys, he realizes the damage is worse in the left eye than the right and files that information away for later. He’s careful that the deeper breath he takes is inaudible before he steels himself and tonelessly instructs, “Mangekyo.”

Chakra floods under his fingertips like a small star. Without permission, Tobirama’s fingers flex ever so slightly. It’s more than enough to prompt those lethal eyes to open. A thrill of adrenaline jolts through his limbs. _Learned behavior_ , he categorizes absently to detract from the otherwise absurdity of the situation: his hands framing Madara’s face almost like a lover, soft black hair trickling over the backs of his hands, as he purposefully looks into the very eyes he’s been wary of since childhood.

“You have something to say, Senju?” Madara prompts coolly. Smug, like a spider staring down prey in its web.

Tobirama does not bow and stubbornly frowns, “You channel a truly obnoxious amount of chakra through your optic nerves.”

As close as necessity has forced them to sit, Tobirama easily catches the way the lazy arrogance of Madara’s posture startles into surprise and then funnels rapidly into a more familiar brand of short-tempered irritation. “Did it take all of your ‘genius’ to figure that out?” he barks.

“Quiet,” Tobirama instructs, tacking on dryly out of spite, “If you wanted someone to extol the wonders of your eyes, you should have approached one of your clansmen.”

Obviously it’s a mistake. He realizes as much when Madara scowls, “You’re the one who—“

“My chakra is tangled in your central nervous system,” Tobirama interrupts, intentionally bland, “Pick your petty fights when I’m finished. I’m to understand that you can be patient when you wish to be.”

He can actually feel the way Madara’s chakra fluxes with the sheer indignation and anger that charges through his system. Can feel it the same way he feels Madara's jawline tense. It feels like fire licking at his fingertips—not close enough to burn but enough to feel the threat. Clearly the reminder that he’s subjected himself to Tobirama’s mercy isn’t appreciated. Unfortunate for Madara; Tobirama doesn’t particularly care.

It does abruptly halt the building argument as intended. Madara all but huffs, crosses his arms, and holds whatever toxic retort he’s building behind a clenched jaw. Whatever he’ll have to say after this will be truly acidic now that he’s had the time to plot. He doesn’t close his eyes again. Tobirama decides to focus his gaze on Madara’s chin for spite and convince.

Despite his many issues with Madara, he attempts to keep this exam as quick and efficient as possible now that he understands the sheer amount of chakra this stage of sharingan requires merely to maintain. No wonder, he thinks idly, the Uchiha tend to have larger chakra stores. It would almost be a necessity to operate the doujutsu without incredibly precise control. 

“Deactivate them,” Tobirama finally decides. He doesn’t remove his hands immediately. Not until he’s healed inflammation similar to what he’d seen the first time. As soon as he does, he feels Madara’s eyes on him again, but he ignores them for the time being to update his notes. 

“Well?” Madara prompts when his patience inevitably reaches its end.

Tobirama refuses to give him the satisfaction of meeting his eyes and instead focuses on jotting down new postulates and crossing out several that he can now eliminate. “You understand this would likely be a significantly more expedient process if I examined another Uchiha’s eyes,” he instead comments dryly, “As you’ve forbidden that possibility, you’ll have exercise your legendary patience.”

He expects the outburst of loud, vehement rage he's been anticipating. He does not entirely notice his misstep until the cool, metered tone fills the otherwise almost unnatural stillness of the home around them like poison. “Is that what you intended when you agreed to train Kagami?”

Ah. There it is, if only in a different, more deadly form. The only surprises are that it took so long and that the fury is the slow-building, cold sort that Tobirama is still not entirely accustomed to.

The ink brush snaps in half between Tobirama’s fingers before he even registers the explosive inferno his own anger and indignation has built into in the span of a heartbeat. The unexpected sting of it only feeds back into the mounting tension: it’s infuriating to some extent that he isn’t used to this. It’s the same flavor of disappointment as when Hashirama, freshly torn from his first friendship with this very man, once accused him of becoming too much like their father. Perhaps it isn’t entirely undeserved: he has done horrible things in the name of protecting clan and village—in the name of sparing Hashirama some of those sins.

Regardless, his ability to tolerate Madara’s accusations will always pale in comparison to what he’s willing to endure for Hashirama.

“Go to your own healers,” he snaps icily, already reaching out to collect his things.

“You don’t even deny it?” Madara picks.

The most galling part is that Tobirama recognizes his own tactic turned on him: he understands that Madara _means_ to riles him. There’s no other way he’d be so calm if he had entirely convinced himself that he’d caught Tobirama in some inane, poorly thought out plot—much less have let him through the door to examine his eyes to begin with. Perhaps it’s hypocritical then, but Tobirama has never claimed much of a moral high ground.

“If you believe even for a moment that manipulating the trust of a child is something I’m capable of on a whim,” he replies icily, “You can find your own help.”

He moves to get up. There are suddenly fingers on his wrist. Tobirama debates breaking them on principle.

“You’re angry—furious even,” Madara muses.

It’s the tone of his voice, suddenly more curious than accusing, that merits Tobirama settling temporarily to leer at him. Whatever insidious anger and suspicion he’d been playing at is gone. Changed out in place of curiosity and a hint of surprise. “’Did it take all of your ‘genius’ to figure that out?’” Tobirama parrots venomously.

Madara lifts a brow, unimpressed. He doesn’t manage it all that well—not when there’s a hint of irritation in the tick of his jaw. Apparently sensing that Tobirama isn’t quite incensed enough for an abrupt exit anymore, he lets go of Tobirama’s wrist (and therefore eliminate the ongoing debate about breaking bones in the latter’s mind). Wisely, he puts more distance between them before he lounges casually as though he hadn’t just gone out of his way to make his very dangerous house guest indescribably angry. “There’s rumor Kagami’s father was an outsider,” he says, apropos of nothing in the prior argument, “If it’s true, his mother took that to her grave.”

Tobirama feels a spike of returning fury, “I am not interested in his eyes.”

Madara actually does roll his eyes this time. It’s such a childish gesture, Tobirama almost thinks he’s picked it up from a teenage Hashirama. Or, perhaps more likely, it was the other way around. “I did gather that much from your little tantrum,” he says dismissively in a way that makes Tobirama reconsider attempting to punch him, “The elders write Kagami off as a bastard. You’ll hear no objections from them.”

The suspicion is Tobirama’s this time. Despite the near violence of minutes before, that is… far easier than it should’ve been. “And you?” he asks warily.

Madara smirks, full of teeth and spite. “If there is anyone who infuriates me more than you, it’s the clan elders,” he says, “Regardless, even if you have any nefarious plans involving Kagami, you’ll return him in a week.”

Tobirama doubts that. It’s Madara he would genuinely like to return.

 

 

 

 

“So,” Izuna comments abruptly two days later, “I heard you swung by my house while I was out.”

Tobirama’s footing doesn’t stutter as they walk. He suspects that, even with a lifetime of training, it’s a small miracle that it doesn’t because there’s no doubt Izuna would’ve noticed. Furthermore, he suddenly understands the Uchiha’s reasoning for his impromptu attempt to annoy Tobirama into taking a break for lunch—a feat that, until today, has only been managed by Hashirama. (Touka and Mito, he decides, do not count, as they clearly chose blackmail and logic respectively to get Tobirama away from his self-imposed exile to administrative duties.)

The village at large has built up to a surprising bustle in the midday market district. There is now a healthy ratio of civilians to retired shinobi running budding businesses. It’s a startlingly positive reminder of how far they’ve come from the bare-bones operation that had existed for nearly half a year while issues of administration, legitimacy in the eyes of the feudal lords, and general stability took staunch priority.

Tobirama watches Izuna, who is still working on the stick of dango he’d taken with him from the restaurant. He’s watching the villagers with a casual sort of levity. Tobirama knows better. “Your brother wanted to discuss confidential issues,” he replies cryptically.

Izuna rolls his eyes. In retrospect… perhaps _he_ is the core of that habit, passed presumably to Madara, who then passed it on temporarily to a much younger Hashirama. “Don’t play dumb, Senju; no one believes it,” he says, meeting Tobirama’s gaze, “It’s about his eyes. Well… my eyes by proxy, but I’m sure you figured that out already.”

…Tobirama has steadily built a grudging admiration of Izuna’s uncanny ability to cut to the point like that. It even works astonishingly well on their thick-skulled brothers. “…I did,” he admits slowly.

Izuna smirks and chews on another bite of dango. Then proceeds to use the nearly cleaned stick to gesture in an alarming way that has a civilian man ducking out of the range of fire. “Don’t look so surprised: no one puts brother in a _mood_ like you do,” he points out, “So I bugged the hell out of him until he told me about your little arrangement.” Tobirama does _not_ appreciate the wording. Izuna sees as much and laughs shamelessly. Luckily for Tobirama’s sanity, he takes on a slightly more thoughtful air as they turn the corner back to the administrative building. “Don’t be too pissed at him about Kagami. Brother may be an absolute ass, but, believe it or not, he’s actually trying to be a good leader.”

Tobirama forgoes pointing out that ‘trying’ is not necessarily enough with the amount of responsibility on Madara’s shoulders. He, too, is a little brother; he knows what a cyclical argument that could threaten to become. “His paranoia causes more issues than it prevents,” he says instead, “Yet he still refuses to contextualize his actions in terms of a unified village.”

“Who doesn’t?” Izuna challenges effortlessly. Clearly he catches Tobirama’s bland reply before he has time to voice it. “Hashirama is a freak of nature,” he amends in a tone that’s… surprisingly almost _fond_ for a man who once cautioned Madara to never trust a Senju, “He doesn’t count.”

Fair point, Tobirama concedes, albeit more than a little grudgingly.

Izuna sighs and stops walking. Tobirama follows suit curiously. Izuna doesn’t… typically seem so openly lost in thought outside of tense missions. He eyes the mountain where Hashirama’s likeness is in the process of being carved. “Madara doesn’t trust easily,” he says purposefully, side-eyeing Tobirama, “Yet he’s agreeing to let you train an Uchiha child. I don’t know what the hell you did or said while you were playing around with his eyes, but that’s a leap from threatening to tie me up in the guest room for daring to be alone in the same office as you.”

That is… surprisingly not a difficult thing to picture with no small degree of clarity. Not when Tobirama can easily conjure up the memory of the vicious leers and the way Madara almost comically insisted on putting himself between Izuna and Tobirama not so long ago.

He takes advantage of Izuna’s distraction with his own thoughts and snatches the skewer with the last piece of dango on it. Ignoring Izuna’s squawk of “ _Hey! Cheater!_ ,” he takes full advantage of his superior height and bites into the sweet. He meets Izuna’s sullen look with a faintly smug one of his own, “Next time you intend to lecture me after lunch, avoid conveniently forgetting your wallet.”

 

 

 

 

Tobirama… quickly discovers that there’s perhaps some merit to Madara’s warnings about Kagami.

The boy never attempts to cause trouble—quite the opposite, given his earnest, cheerful disposition—but that same disposition also puts him unintentionally in numerous precarious positions. Tobirama never remotely considers “returning” his student regardless; the assumption that he might irks him to no end, in fact. Kagami never hides from the consequences of his escapades, even when the blame isn’t even his to bear. That is why, a month into Kagami’s training, Tobirama is more than a little concerned when the young Uchiha doesn’t show up at their usual training ground.

Kagami often arrives in a rush, but he’s never late and has never once come close to casting doubt on his prior assertion regarding his work ethic. It is… mildly concerning, so Tobirama waits.

After half an hour, he closes his eyes and focuses on picking Kagami’s chakra out of the mass of signatures currently in the village. He finds it easily enough and frowns immediately at the muted, withdrawn feeling of the signature. Kagami is alone but isn’t moving. Concerned, he leaves the training ground.

He finds Kagami at the bank of the river just outside of the village. His legs are drawn up to his chest with his chin resting on his knees. …He’s been crying, Tobirama notes, but he doesn't appear to be injured. That is... mildly distressing but certainly not the worst case scenario. 

“Kagami?” he prompts, stepping forward.

The boy startles and spins into a crouch with a kunai in hand. Good. His reflexes are improving.

When the realization settles in that Tobirama is a familiar face, Kagami’s eyes go wide as he tucks away his weapon. He quickly scrubs at his eyes with the back of his forearm as if he intends to erase the evidence of tears. The watery smile that follows is theoretically intended to do the same, but the attempt fails on both accounts. “Sorry, sensei,” he mutters, “I forgot, didn’t I?”

Tobirama notices the irksome presence tucked away further out of sight, but he ignores it. How could he not, when his first student is obviously distraught?

Tobirama approaches and sits down next to Kagami on the cool grass, only just dried from the morning dew. Kagami looks at him a bit curiously but follows along and sits back down.

For all of Tobirama’s intelligence, Hashirama is the one who excels in matters of basic human emotion. Tobirama has never been entirely within what he considers the spectrum of normality. Regardless, he doesn’t bother asking if something happened: that much is obvious. “Do you wish to talk about it?” he asks instead.

Kagami sighs and scrubs at his eyes again. For a moment, Tobirama settles in the idea that they won’t speak of the unnamed issue. He doesn’t mind, as it seems Kagami has at least settled some with the company. When Kagami does talk, it startles the pinpoint of Madara’s chakra from moving away. “My mother died today,” he says, his voice cracking on halfway through, “Three years ago.”

Tobirama frowns. That is a pain with which he can sympathize.

Kagami clears his throat as though that will hold back the fresh wave of tears threatening to spill over. “A Senju girl asked to see me today. Izuna-sama let her. She was… maybe sixteen…?” he continues, dark eyes locked on the water rather than Tobirama, “She wanted to say she was sorry because… because she…”

_Killed his mother on the battlefield_ , Tobirama supplements silently. While not entirely common, similar incidents have been happening sporadically on either side. Not nearly enough to outweigh the suspicion and hatred among the old guard. Perhaps it’s naivety on par with Hashirama’s idealism, but it almost seems like hope for the future. Tobirama, however, knows that it won't be without issue no matter the general idea. 

He closes his eyes solemnly for a moment. Something spikes in Madara’s chakra, but Tobirama ignores it beyond the spark of irritation at the obvious attempt to eavesdrop on a sensor. Kagami takes precedence.

“I see,” Tobirama replies, neither condemning nor condoning, “So you came here.”

Kagami nods, blinking tears from his eyes as he draws his legs back up to rest his chin on his knees. “I wanted to be _mad_ , sensei,” he admits.

Tobirama raises a brow and watches the young Uchiha from the corner of his eyes, “You weren’t?” Neutral. No accusation. Simply a prompt to continue talking.

Kagami swallows and shakes his head. “I was…” he says with a wince like he’s almost ashamed. He looks up at Tobirama with searching eyes. It’s simple enough to read the expectation of condemnation. It’s not an illogical assumption: Tobirama is a Senju, the girl— _Tama, he suspects, as she’s been asking Hashirama recently about whether or not a particular Uchiha kunoichi was survived by family_ —is Senju, and Kagami is used to the single-minded pride clans breed among their own.

When Kagami turns back to the water with a sigh of relief, Tobirama feels some of his own tension slide away. “I _am_ ,” he amends, “Angry, I mean. I just… We probably killed someone she loved, too. If I keep hating her, and then someone she loves hates me, when does it stop?”

That is… startlingly familiar to hear. Jarring, especially, from a Uchiha.

Tobirama realizes with more than a small spike of guilt that perhaps that is entirely unfair of him to assume. After all, Kagami and Izuna are the only Uchiha he speaks to with any sort of regularity. Madara doesn’t entirely count, as their now weekly sessions have taken to become just another venue to bicker about politics after hours.

Absently, he wonders if Kagami realizes that Tobirama has, by far, more Uchiha blood on his hands than Tama. That particular insecurity, he tucks back in its usual place, as this discussion is Kagami’s to lead. “That is a wise insight, Kagami,” he says instead, “One that this village was founded upon.”

Ah, apparently that took better than Tobirama expected it to. Kagami’s eyes go a little wide. He whirls to look up at Tobirama, surprised—in a positive sense it seems. At the edge of the trees, there’s a uncannily similar spike of surprise in Madara’s chakra. It’s a flicker at best: there in a moment and gone in a heartbeat.

“Madara-sama and Hokage-sama…?” he starts.

Hashirama is a given. Madara is… uncannily as familiar with hatred and anger as Tobirama. He admits that they’re more of a kind than Madara ever will be to Hashirama: perhaps too willing to do what they believe must be done no matter how different their ideals and methods might be. Maybe _that_ is one of the reason Tobirama has always seen the Uchiha as a threat. Tobirama knows very well what he’s capable of doing to protect what he holds dear.

_Defy the laws of life and death_ , he remembers Hashirama yelling, shaken and suddenly closer to Tobirama in parlor of the first time in his life. It hadn't even been a  _human_ he'd tested it on, but...

Regardless… At some point, Hashirama very clearly must’ve seen something kin in Madara, the same as Tobirama has. The Uchiha has become one of the village leaders, after all, despite his constant, vocal complaints about bureaucracy, so Tobirama nods.

Perhaps Tobirama should’ve expected the inevitable question, but it still takes him by surprise when Kagami asks with that tint of optimistic curiosity, “And you, sensei?”

Tobirama finds himself looking across the riverbed now. Not long ago, he would’ve said the fighting needed to end—regardless of the methods. Then he’d had Izuna’s blood on his blade and Hashirama’s fragile dream in his hands. Now it threatens to make his physically ill that, once, he would’ve justified a solution that may have resulted in Kagami’s death—would’ve written Izuna’s off as an act of war and self-preservation.

“I would rather never witness another child die on the battlefield.” he answers, “Regardless of clan or creed.”

That _is_ his idea of peace. Not the one Hashirama once spoke of in wide, sweeping generalizations. No more little brothers found lifeless by their surviving elders. No more life-long morning of those who died before they could even live. Unlikely, he knows, even with the village's founding. They're shinobi. Their lives are short and dangerous. Still, that is an idea Tobirama can strive for, even in the abstract. 

Tobirama sees Kagami nod from his periphery. When he looks back, the boy is smiling at him, soft and still edged with upset but steadier now. Kagami takes a steadily breath and lets his shoulders relax. He turns back to the forest in front of him and allows the now more comfortable silence to settle between them. The only interruption is Kagami’s quiet, “Thanks, sensei.”

Only then does Tobirama realize that Madara’s chakra is suddenly halfway back to the village.

After Kagami settles, he insists on completing the day’s training session. Understanding the desire for a distraction, Tobirama indulges his request, even if it does put him an hour late for weekly dinner with Hashirama and Mito.

Hashirama, who leaves the table halfway through dinner to open the window to a falcon.

Mito frowns at the bird—clearly someone’s pet, given the bells on its foot and the thin message scroll it carries. Tobirama gives her a questioning look. “Madara’s,” she answers. The hint of disapproval is clear enough in the entirely neutral way she says his name before she sips at her tea. Much to the confusion of the masses, she’s never discouraged Hashirama’s unorthodox friendship; rather she seems to take great joy in sending Madara into a flustered rage. Tobirama, for one, whole-heartedly approves. “They were in the same office two hours ago,” she says and mutters something like “children.”

Hashirama frowns and squints at the scroll. For an odd moment, Tobirama almost feels the irrational need to remind himself that sharingan-related blindness is hardly contagious. “…It’s for Tobirama,” Hashirama finally says. His eyes drift to the recipient in question with a suspicious frown, “Since when do you get secret letters from Madara?”

_Oh, gods_. That is a look that means nothing good.

Tobirama vows then and there to make Madara’s life a living hell. Assuming Hashirama and whatever insane, far-fetched scenarios he’s doubtlessly concocting doesn’t finish the job for him.

Tobirama feels a shiver of cold dread slide down his spine, into the pit of his stomach when Hashirama’s face splits into a sly, conspiratorial grin. His fingers slide under the edge of the seal without breaking eye contact, “Is this a love letter?”

Mito make a noise that’s either her choking on tea or potentially suffering from a minor insanity-induced ailment. Tobirama hardly stops to check and assures himself that it is _not_ a misuse of _hiraishin_ to snatch the scroll from Hashirama’s hands.

…which unfortunately has the unintended consequences of backfiring entirely, as Hashirama erupts into a wave of joy and throws his arm around Tobirama’s shoulders to nuzzle at his cheek. “I’m so happy, little brother!” he announces.

“Remove your hand, or I’ll remove it,” Tobirama threatens. It goes unheard under the sudden ramble of some fantasy about… ' _courting'_ and ' _secret lovers'_ that threatens to be the cause of Tobirama’s brain leaking out of his ears.

For the sake of Tobirama’s sanity, Mito has mercy on her brother-in-law and eventually drags Hashirama out, sulking and all but whining as she systematically and ruthlessly punches holes in each of his not-so-carefully constructed backstory. ...Tobirama will owe her his life after this, he realizes with a sigh as he watches them leave to ensure that Hashirama's isn't planning on turning right back around the moment Mito turns her back. 

In the blessedly restored peace of his own home, he unfolds the already infuriating message.

He suspects he might have developed a tick in his jaw as the reads the full _two_ sentences held therein: _I want to discuss your opinion on the negotiations with the Hyuuga. Meet at the office tomorrow at noon—don’t be late._

…Tobirama debates sending one of his own summons with a reply. The only modicum of restraint that prevents him comes in the realization that he’d rather not terrify the hard-won civilians of the village away so soon.

He _almost_ thinks it would be worth it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, everyone! Once again, I have to apologize for the late update. (Becoming a bit of a theme here, I know. T.T) I actually had the draft of this done on time, but the original copy went through some drastic changes since I was pretty stressed out writing it at the time. I'm much happier with the version I'm posting now than what it was before. I'm hoping that I can stick to at least an update every other week at the latest from here on. Additionally, I think this story is also going to be a little bit longer than I expected it to just based on what I have planned at the moment. 
> 
> I just wanted to take time once again to thank all of you who left kudos and support for this story. You all are incredibly amazing, and I just wanted to say how much I appreciate all the wonderful support and encouragement! You all are a lovely community, and I'm very grateful for that. I hope you all continue to enjoy the story. 
> 
> Again, I don't have a beta reader, so all mistakes completely mine.

When Tobirama arrives, the upper levels of the administrative building are empty save for Madara, who stands against one of the tables-turned-impromptu-workstations. The stillness of the otherwise typically bustling room is mildly disconcerting. Entirely expected, yes, but still strange to see regardless. Only in the last several months has the chaos of organizing the village crept slowly into enough of a sense of stability and normality that Hashirama has been able to issue something of a schedule for the hours of operation of the village’s leadership that includes regular days off for rest.

Tobirama cannot help the slightest twinge of bitterness that Hashirama isn’t present to lay his delusional suppositions to rest before they truly have time to take root.

Madara shifts his attention to Tobirama from a scroll lazily half-unwound on the table. Tobirama fully braces against a wave of irritation, as he expects Madara to purposefully dismiss his intentionally late arrival in favor of spitefully finishing his reading. He… does not. Rather, he eyes Tobirama with a surprising lack of vitriol as he pushes away from the table and moves to the door.

Tobirama’s eyes narrow in suspicion.

“You’re late,” Madara points out expectantly.

Tobirama crosses his arms, “Consider it the consequences of your own poor planning.”

Madara frowns, a cross between suspicion and curiosity, “If you had some other pressing obligation, you could’ve said as much.”

Tobirama did not have a prior obligation; he’d merely been forced to detach himself from Hashirama without raising further suspicion. Regardless, he can only hope that his growing exasperation translates as well as he hopes, “Your wording suggested otherwise, _Uchiha-sama_.”

The most curious flicker of red dusts across finely crafted cheekbones. Tobirama savors what he interprets as the spark of indignation. Madara stalks past him, shoulders hunched and disposition clearly bristled, with a mutter that sounds distinctly like “ _bastard_ ” that Tobirama chooses to ignore.

The Uchiha pauses just at the doorway to glance over his shoulder expectantly, “Are you coming?” When Tobirama refuses to move—rather pins him with a look demanding an explanation—Madara scowls. “Izuna walked out with my lunch this morning; I’m not babysitting Hyuuga half-fed.”

Ah. A delegate of the Hyuuga’s matriarch is meant to arrive in the afternoon for a glorified tour of the village in the guise of more negotiation talks. Tobirama had forgotten as much.

Against his better judgement, he falls into step with Madara. It would hardly be the first time they’ve vehemently argued in public. Perhaps it will do more to put down Hashirama’s assumptions than anything Tobirama himself could contrive. It seems the village hasn’t forgotten the last vicious argument that had threatened to turn into an all-out brawl in the middle of what is now the market. The moment they set foot among the busy mid-day streets, they garner far more stares than either of their reputations alone typically earn them.

Tobirama is more than accustomed to receiving a wider berth from civilians who have immigrated from merchant families in the Land of Fire rather than other shinobi clans; he’s hardly the only shinobi they still appear uncomfortable with. He does not fail to notice that, today, those stares are accompanied by ones from colleagues as well. Curiously, Madara’s reaction is entirely undetectable. Rather the opposite of a reaction, he seems to have calmed back into the stance of lazy grace and self-assurance of a man only a fool would attempt to attack without reason. Dark eyes watch the road, occasionally making a satisfied detour at progressing construction or a new market stall.

The question is not whether the he notices; no matter what qualities Tobirama may question in the man, his skill as a shinobi is not one of them. No one able to stand toe-to-toe with Hashirama should be underestimated in that regard.

For a brief moment, Tobirama’s thoughts wander to Kagami: of how he is so accustomed to the scrutiny of his kin that he hardly acknowledges it.

Eyeing Madara, he wonders…

“I don’t want them in this village,” Madara announces abruptly. He meets Tobirama’s curious glance with something set and stubborn. The familiar displeasure reads easily enough. Tobirama finds it disconcerting how jarring that look seems when it’s directed through him rather than at him.

He frowns as he considers the implications. “Afraid the villagers will find the byakugan superior to your sharingan?” he tests. Both kekkei genkai are incredibly useful for their own specialties. Whatever his own prejudices—some of which he has only just begun to recognize between Kagami and Izuna—he’s never claimed the sharingan’s abilities are overestimated in their versatility and uses.

Madara’s eyes narrow, gaze perhaps a fraction of a millimeter to the right of Tobirama’s. “I’m not joking, Senju,” he says. That tone is resolute. Steady. Not at all insulted or dismissive. He’s entirely serious. Whatever has caused this, it isn’t simply a matter of pride or pettiness in response to the admittedly irritating political hoops Madara has been expected to jump through.

Tobirama eyes the Uchiha contemplatively, “Why?” Neutral. More so than he has ever attempted to be with this man, but he is undeniably curious. He isn’t… entirely unaware that Madara is much more intelligent than his temper tends to give the impression of.

Moreover, he’s beginning to suspect that Madara… actually does desire Tobirama’s opinion.

…perhaps he should be subtly pushing them toward a medic rather than lunch. Then again, if Madara is foolish enough to wander around with whatever mind altering poison may or may not be in his system at the moment, that’s hardly Tobirama’s responsibility.

Madara watches him now. Eyes Tobirama’s expression and the curious lift of his brow. Whatever his judgement, he stalls the conversation long enough to turn into one of the newer restaurants. The hostess provides yet another half-panicked look at the sight of the two of them within earshot, sans the buffer of Hashirama. (“ _…Two tables…?_ ” she tries more than a little desperately and stammers out an apology when Tobirama blandly states they’re together.) Tobirama suspects the expectation of the inevitable yelling does result in the acquisition of the most isolated of the tables, which is an unexpected benefit.

Given that the majority of the other patrons are civilian, he hardly needs to be concerned with eavesdroppers.

Once they’ve settled in with lunch, Tobirama stares expectantly.

Frustration pours out of Madara’s demeanor, even in something as simple as picking out a piece of sashimi. “What do you know about Hyuuga interclan politics?” he asks cryptically.

“Very little,” Tobirama admits. He recites off what he does know, namely in regards to the strangely stringent separation of the main and branch families, while Madara carefully picks at the food.

When he’s finished, Madara sets down his chopsticks. He braces his forearms against the table and leans slightly forward. Tobirama frowns disapprovingly at the spill of black hair that threatens to brush against the table. Madara, naturally, entirely dismisses the silent reprimand. “They seal their branch members,” Madara says, tapping his forehead with a scowl, “Their clan leader assured me it was to prevent the byakugan falling into enemy hands.”

That sounds… horrific. The sort of seal that would render a doujutsu unusable, given the placement Madara implies, would be devastating if triggered prematurely. One detail, in particular, catches Tobirama’s attention amid Madara’s obvious skepticism of the claims, “Only the branch family?”

The pull of Madara’s lips is grim. Hardly captured to its fullest extent in the heavy disapproval of his expression. “Only the branch family,” he confirms, “Members of the main branch rarely run missions. They told us it was therefore unnecessary for them to bear the same mark. Hashirama brushed off my concerns—said he’d rather get them inducted safely into the village before attempting to get rid of that practice—but I know how normal clans operate. Once they’re part of the village, they’ll threaten to leave for ‘meddling in tradition.’”

Tobirama does not interpret that as a slight, strangely enough. Rather, it’s merely fact that the Senju clan’s versatility had meant that they lacked numerous connecting features that may have resulted in stringent clan traditions based on any particular, unifying skill. Hashirama, however, does not always take that sociological difference into consideration at the negotiation table. His adamant faith in the best of humanity also has its pitfalls among its unexpectedly potent strengths.

Perhaps, despite Tobirama’s reservations, Madara truly is their best suited to this particular negotiation given his background and skill set.

“You fear that power will be abused in the village,” Tobirama posits, tipping his head thoughtfully, “Valid.”

…He is singularly unimpressed when Madara ends up choking on his tea as a result and therefore makes no move to help while the Uchiha thumps dramatically at his chest. With the integrity of his airways no longer in jeopardy, Madara clears his throat and pulls the tatters of his pride into the narrow-eyed, suspicious leer he throws at Tobirama. “You’re agreeing with me. Over Hashirama,” he says, slowly, as if Tobirama has some issue understanding small words, “ _You_.”

Funny, Tobirama thinks dryly, how calmly stating a rational point tends to win his support. He focuses his attention back on eating lunch rather than indulging Madara’s penchant for unnecessary dramatization. He intends to spend the rest of his afternoon cloistered with his research, after all. At least, when Touka inevitably arrives to drag him out, he’ll have the excuse of having eaten a decent lunch should he neglect dinner. “You would have me speak to brother about this?” he asks instead.

Madara shakes his head sourly, “I can’t include abandoning that tradition as part of the terms of a treaty without Hashirama’s backing. Which he won’t agree to so long as he prioritizes peace in Fire Country over the long-term stability of the village’s clans. I need something more… subtle.”

Tobirama is grudgingly impressed with the foresight of that observation.

...He finds himself forcing his gaze neutrally back to the food when he realizes that he’s stared, unblinkingly, at the calculation and intensity on Madara’s face long enough to know Touka would’ve teasingly jested about the impoliteness of it where this anyone else. He rarely finds its kin in his typical conversations: that level of cunning and intellectual _challenge_ is… disconcertingly interesting when it comes in the form of one irritable Uchiha.

(As such, he rather suspects that Touka would politely knee him to knock him back to his senses, which is desperately missed at a time such as this.)

“Lead the dignitary through the clan compounds,” Tobirama suggests, picking at a piece of eggplant, “Remind them that they risk becoming the only major clan in Fire Country unallied with the village. Of how your word has been enough to allow other clans to join.”

Madara tilts his head, considering. “What are you suggesting?”

Tobirama’s reply is intentionally bland and casual, “Merely to remind them of how much weight brother puts on your council.”

The words, this time are… oddly not as bitter as they have been the past. Tobirama remembers a day not so long ago when he’d said as much to Mito with a far grimmer undercurrent. ‘ _Brother would follow Madara to this village’s ruin_ ,’ he’d said. Now…

He isn’t sure if that assessment is entirely accurate.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, given the prior conversation, realization washes over Madara’s face in only seconds. Tobirama does not know what to make of the toothy smirk. At least the hostess seems to be in the same state of confusion, as she nearly drops a cup when they leave minutes later without a raised voice to be had.

\--

Tobirama does attempt to spend the remainder of his off day working on personal projects cloistered in his laboratory. The plan persists smoothly enough for the first several hours. Plenty long enough to temporarily distance himself from the unsettling lack of vehemence and suspicion that has characterized every interaction he has had with Uchiha Madara until earlier that day.

Then Kagami’s chakra approaches the door. Not an unusual occurrence in and of itself. The young Uchiha, despite an infuriatingly less than stellar technical education thus far, is quick enough to take direction that Tobirama allows him inside the laboratory and even to assist with less volatile trails and projects.

It’s the utter lack of cheer and the dwindling chakra reserves that startles Tobirama. Much less the fact that two other signatures huddle close by as they stop at the door. Tobirama is too unfamiliar with the new signatures to read much into their emotional state, but Kagami is tense with anxiety.

A timid knock follows, but Tobirama is already opening the door.

Two sets of wide eyes peer up at him. Two unfamiliar children pillar a slumped Kagami on either side. One looks to be roughly his student’s age while the other is clearly several years their junior. The latter is small enough that he appears to be mostly nominal in his attempt to help hold Kagami’s weight.

Kagami is resolutely not looking at him. Rather, he’s staring at the floor so intently that it takes a moment for Tobirama to be certain that he is, in fact, conscious. He sees no concerning injuries past the mild drain of chakra. Whatever the issue is, it isn’t physical and isn’t life threatening.

“What happened?” he demands, ill-tempered in his concern.

All three boys are dirty, scraped, and bruised. The youngest is drenched and dripping water onto the floor. Both of the unfamiliar children flinch as the admittedly rough tone. The younger boy casts a worried glance over the back of Kagami’s head. The older one swallows hard but musters himself to meet Tobirama’s unwavering gaze. “There was a fight?” he says with an inflection as though he’s answering a test and isn’t entirely sure he’s chosen correctly.

Tobirama narrows his eyes impatiently.

The boy takes a breath and tries again. Under any other circumstance, Tobirama would soften at the courage, but he is hardly known for his patience when his precious people are at risk. “Some of the older kids were making fun of Hiruzen and Danzo again ‘cause they go the Academy and all. Kagami told them to stop, and—”

“They got mad,” comes Kagami’s voice, quiet and disconcertingly mild.

“They were from your clan, Senju-sama,” the younger boy adds on.

Ah. That would explain the escalation at least. Tobirama crouches in front of Kagami, but Kagami resolutely looks to the side and clamps his eyes shut. “Kagami,” he coaxes, as gently as he’s capable of, “What is the matter?”

Slowly, ever so slowly, Kagami breathes deeply and opens his eyes.

Red. More vibrant than Tobirama’s natural shade with two tomoe each, spinning in lazy circles. Tobirama blinks, surprised and with steadily increasing confusion. “I wanted to turn it off. I didn’t want you to have to see, but I didn’t know where to go to…” Kagami says, just a touch verging on manic as he adds, “I can’t turn it off, sensei.”

Hence the drained chakra.

“Didn’t want me to see,” Tobirama repeats, voice carefully dull.

Kagami skillfully intuits the unspoken question and all but flinches. “I didn’t think so, but…” he says, now a little calmer, “The elders say things, and people repeat them. I was just… scared.”

Tobirama finally decides that Madara is, indeed, the lesser of the two proverbial evils of Uchiha clan leadership. It requires nearly every ounce of his not insubstantial will power to restrain the stubborn portion of his hindbrain that demands he storm up to the Uchiha compound, chakra flaring, to unleash his own venom at the clan elders for the poison they have no doubt intentionally slipped into his student’s ear. After all, he’s well aware of their motive: a presumed bastard child with a sharingan would undermine all of their claims regarding clan purity and the careful preservation of bloodlines.

It is one subject Tobirama has always been pleased that Madara vocally opposes.

These are not things Kagami—or indeed his friends—need to be burdened with yet. Later, of course, because Tobirama has never been a proponent of keeping his charge blissfully ignorant of the unfortunate realities of their lives, but the time for that will be later. When it can be handled carefully without emotions running so near the surface.

Instead, he grasps Kagami’s shoulder and says purposefully, “Congratulations, Kagami.”

Kagami smiles, perhaps a bit hesitantly, but still wide and with the beginnings of pride.

Tobirama stands and ushers the children from the laboratory. “Unfortunately, what knowledge I have of the sharingan is unhelpful in this matter,” he admits.

“Wait!” the youngest boy demands, apparently offended on Kagami’s behalf already, “You’re not just abandoning him!”

“Of course not,” Tobirama dismisses as he continues down the hall. At least he can consider the boy’s defensiveness of his friends admirable, if misguided.

The older boys fall into line easily enough. The younger follows partially because he takes his cue from his peers. By his proximity to the boys’ conversation, Tobirama infers that Kagami and younger boy—one Sarutobi Hiruzen—have been friends for some time now. This is further substantiated by the fact that this is not Tobirama’s first time hearing the boy’s name from Kagami. The older boy, Torifu of the Akimichi clan, is something of a newcomer to their friend group after stepping in to help Kagami defend Hiruzen and his friend.

Given that the children are quite a vocal group now that Kagami has perked up enough to answer Hiruzen’s nearly endless questions about his new visual capacity, Tobirama is entirely unsurprised that they make something of a motley parade through the Uchiha district without actually attempting to. The boys, at least, are quick to dismiss the attention, even if he’s certain that at least Torifu is quick to pick up on the atmosphere around them. Additionally unsurprising is the fact that Madara quickly appears to debate the merits of calmly shutting his door in Tobirama’s face.

Understandable, in a way, given that he must’ve only just returned home from escorting around the Hyuuga delegation.

“No matter what Izuna’s continued presence in my home implies,” Madara says dryly, “I’m not running a daycare.”

Ah. So Tobirama has accidentally misjudged the range of clarity of Madara’s vision. That is… strikingly disconcerting, in that Kagami is not all that far behind him. Almost as disconcertaing as the genuine spark of concern that takes Tobirama entirely by surprise.

Gently, he coaxes his student from his friends and to the front of the pack. When Madara focuses properly on the younger Uchiha’s eyes, his brows lift in obvious intrigue.

“He doesn’t know how to deactivate them,” Tobirama explains, “As clan head, you are naturally responsible for—“

Madara slides the door entirely open and dips into a crouch. Tobirama expects a vicious grin, based more on spite toward something he can lord over the elders. He does not expect the flicker of genuine pride on Madara’s face as he inspects Kagami’s sharingan. “Two tomoe, hm?” he remarks, “Impressive, brat.”

Kagami blinks, understandably unsure if he should take that as a compliment or insult. “…Can you help me turn them off now?”

Tobirama snorts, amused. Madara briefly shoots him a withering look but moves to allow Kagami entrance to his home. Kagami glances up at Tobirama as though he is the one whose permission is necessary in this situation.

If Tobirama feels the warmth of pride, he ignores it to nod, “I’ll see your friends home and return here.”

Kagami breathes a sigh of relief and smiles tiredly. “Thanks, sensei,” he says, even while Madara sharply mutters “Don’t just invite yourself into my home, Senju.”

Torifu and Hiruzen both seem unusually relieved to have an escort back through predominantly Uchiha-owned property. An unfortunate side-effect of the Uchiha reputation through the majority of the village. One that none of the respective leadership quite knows how to mend.

Without Kagami’s sharingan to take up the core of Hiruzen’s curiosity, those questions are turned to Torifu, who has a frankly admirable skill in tactfully turning the questions around to tease the other boy, and to Tobirama. By the time they arrive back in the village proper, Tobirama has been quizzed on everything from his taste in recreational literature to the nature of chakra itself.

“Senju-sama?” Hiruzen calls as Tobirama begins back down the path they came from, “When I graduate, I’m going to make sure you’re our sensei, too.”

Tobirama pauses to glance over his shoulder with a raised brow, “Is that so?”

Hiruzen nods seriously while Torifu appears somewhere between bemused and embarrassed on his young friend’s behalf.

“Then I suggest you work hard,” Tobirama replies, then adds as something of a challenge, “Shinobi only resort to direct confrontation when no other option is available.”

The thoughtful silence in his wake is somewhat encouraging.

\--

By the time Tobirama arrives back at Madara’s home, dusk has passed, and Kagami has apparently fallen asleep, propped against the wall. Judging by his relatively low—fortunately not alarmingly so—chakra stores, Tobirama cannot fault him as much.

Madara, who has made himself busy with writing what is undoubtedly a report to Hashirama, makes a vague gesture at the tea pot still sitting on the table. Tobirama, who has never entirely been all that acquainted with shame and hesitation, settles at the table and pours a cup of surprisingly warm tea.

Given the placement of Madara’s home on the outskirts of Uchiha land, the breeze doesn’t carry with it the scent of the bakeries and tea houses that seem uncannily popular among the Uchiha. Rather, the soft sounds of insects and rustling flora pair soothingly with the warmth of the fragrant tea and peaceful quiet.

This is… not something that Tobirama consciously links to a man like Madara. Not when their own interactions are more often explosive than not. Even the brief handful of stories that Tobirama has heard vicariously through Hashirama frequently involve playful bickering rather than indulgence in quiet moments. Then again, Tobirama corrects himself, many of those stories are of teenage boys desperate to forget the violent, brutal nature of the reality that had shaped them by means of their losses and fears.

Within moments, Madara calls a summons to deliver the report to Hashirama. Then he joins Tobirama and pours himself a cup of tea. “The sharingan only activates in emotional distress,” he comments, eyeing Kagami purposefully.

Tobirama frowns, “There was a dispute with Senju children. I will ensure the culprits are made aware that no other incidents will be tolerated without repercussions.”

The skepticism Tobirama expects is starkly absent. Rather, the unfamiliar calm remains, whether by nature of the strange, new perceptions of each other that neither seem to have entirely found their footing in yet or by desire to allow Kagami the peace of sleep. “You were genuinely pleased,” Tobirama posits, “Why?”

Madara scowls at his tea, “Despite what you may think, Senju, I care for the welfare of my clan.”

A venomous answer, given that such a statement has never featured in the breadth of Tobirama’s accusations towards Madara before. Then again… Tobirama thinks back to earlier that day. To the way Madara seems so accustomed to suspicious, worried glances that he entirely ignores them. There is a price for the sort of brutal power they wield. Particularly without the buffer of charisma and levity that their brothers exude effortlessly.

Tobirama stalls a moment to consider the weight of the question on his tongue. There is something inherently galling about posing a request to a man who has long been more of a thorn than an ally. Long-trained paranoia vehemently warns him against exposing any potential vulnerability to a man who is undoubtedly capable of going for the proverbial throat. And yet…

And yet, this request is not for Tobirama’s benefit.

And yet, Madara did the same, no so long ago. Still continues to sit for sessions with a very physical reminder of a potential threat rather than a metaphorical one.

“Teach Kagami to use his sharingan,” Tobirama propositions even as the words grate harshly against his pride, “and I will be in your debt.”

Madara’s brows climb, and Tobirama suspects the twitch of his fingers very nearly causes him to lose his grip on his cup. “Aren’t you a genius?” Madara prods, “Why don’t you figure it out yourself?”

Tobirama restrains the urge to hit Madara in the forehead with the tea cup just to diminish the smug smirk growing on his lips. Rather, he leers in return, entirely undeterred and unimpressed, as they both know there are numerous things Tobirama could never teach Kagami, even with unimpeded access to every scrap of knowledge available about the doujutsu. “Will you teach him or not?”

Madara all but huffs and rolls his eyes. “Izuna doesn’t have the time, and no one else will do it,” he muses, “Fine. If only because it would shameful for an otherwise promising Uchiha shinobi to go stumbling around without knowing how to shut his damn sharingan off.”

Tobirama nods, satisfied despite the uncanny paranoia that he may or may not have just signed a deal with a demon. He sets down his empty cup and stands to leave. But not without first pausing to mention, “In the spirit of good faith, I should inform you Hashirama intercepted your note and is now under the mistaken assumption that I am your ‘secret lover,’ and that you frequently send me poetry.”

The sound of choking is so delightfully soothing to Tobirama’s taxed sanity that, as he opens the door to take his leave, he shamelessly tacks on, “Given that he’s yet to ‘defend my honor,’ I assume he’s yet to connect that to the fact that lovers typically have sex.”

Tobirama assumes that it takes Madara at least fifteen seconds to entirely regain his breath, given that the furious shout of “ _Senju!_ ” doesn’t bellow out into the Uchiha district until Tobirama is several feet from the clan head’s home.

If Izuna, clearly on his way home, shoots him an odd look, Tobirama merely smirks and continues walking.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! Totally got caught up helping some little old lady carry her bags across the street... >.> That worked, right? Everyone buys that one, right?
> 
> Um… So…? Honest talk? I’m trying to get into professional school, so I’ve been buried up to the eyeballs in stress and things to do to try and make that happen... including a really comprehensive entrance exam over stuff I haven’t studied since I graduated the first time. I promise I’m not abandoning any fics. I’m just kind of hitting a snail’s pace right now and kind of got so swept up in all the stress it was hard to write for a while. That said, all of your comments and kudos are seriously the most amazing things, and I cannot thank everyone enough for the support you’ve shown so far. It’s supper flattering, and I’m so very glad that I could work on something that a lot of people seem to really enjoy. Just bear with me! I’m working on it! I promise! 
> 
> As usual, any glaring typos are my doing, and I apologize in advance because I'm pretty bad about that.

“You must be joking.”

This is… very much not what Tobirama had anticipated when he’d placed himself in Madara’s debt. It isn’t a veto of one of his propositions for the village. It isn’t a demand to copy one of Tobirama’s closely guarded techniques. There isn’t even an inconvenient corpse to discreetly dispose of.

(Tobirama had honestly expected the latter a bit more than perhaps he would have with anyone else, barring perhaps Izuna or Touka. Given that this is Madara, he still maintains that it's an entirely reasonable assumption.

As for Izuna and Touka... Tobirama... admits that he would be somewhat disappointed if either of them ever required assistance in disposing of a body.)

No. Madara apparently decides to trade in his favor to demands that Tobirama be part of the delegation to finalize the terms of the Hyuuga’s consolidation into the village.

Tobirama almost wishes it was the corpse.

The Uchiha snorts dryly, “Oh, yes, Senju; I’m notorious for my sense of humor.”

Tobirama stares flatly in lieu of a rebuttal. Madara lifts his brows impatiently.

Tobirama alots himself a long-suffering sigh. He does _not_ liken it to the one he so often finds himself using with an overzealous Hashirama on a winning streak. “At this stage in the negotiations, the village can't afford to show any sign of weakness,” he explains as he pours himself another cup of tea. It _has_ been a long night, given a full day’s worth of administrative duties, followed by a training session with Kagami split between he and Madara, and, finally, the eye examination concluded only moments ago. Even if it means sitting at Madara’s table a while longer, he will endure. Whatever the Uchiha’s faults, his taste in tea is… surprisingly agreeable. “Any argument between you and I could be perceived as division among the village’s leadership.”

Madara, the presumptuous bastard, slides his cup forward. Tobirama momentarily debates pouring hot tea over his hand on principle but ultimately opts for a disapproving leer instead. Perhaps the Uchiha head could learn something of self-control by example.

Tobirama does not hold his breath for that particular miracle.

Dark eyes settle on the tea. That… is a mild surprise. It certainly isn’t the first time Madara has let his general awareness slip from Tobirama while in close proximity. Moreso that it’s been happening more frequently is what continues to surprise Tobirama. Shinobi do not allow such a thing among perceived enemies, and Tobirama, given his sensory prowess, is more attuned to the matter than most.

“You _are_ an expert with fuinjutsu, are you not?” Madara counters, clearly already knowing the answer. While Tobirama answers with a flat look rather than indulge him with that particular argument, the Uchiha smirks and takes a drink. “I need that skill set to settle this before it becomes the village’s problem. What was it you said…?” he continues with a look of feigned innocence that seems entirely ineffective given the smugness in his eyes and the turn of his lips, “Oh, yes. Something about holding a grudge against those who would undo the efforts of the village--intentionally or otherwise.”

Tobirama’s frown devolves into a scowl. As a child, he’d once longed for a quick-witted conversational partner, who had a head for recall. Naturally, Madara unwittingly fulfills that desire years later in the most infuriating manner possible.

(Now, he suspects that desire had been born from a desperation to fill some part--any tiny part--of the void Itama had left behind in Tobirama’s twice-shattered world. Anything to return some sense of stability and connection with two brothers buried and another with eyes suddenly focused solely on a future that Tobirama, at the time, could never fathom seeing himself in.)

“There are other fuinjutsu users in the village,” he points out blandly, “Mito’s skill supersedes mine. She has experience as a diplomat.” He’s aware of the undercurrent of wariness between Mito and Madara. It’s hardly the outright aggression he and Tobirama are notorious for, but… he supposes that, now, Mito and Madara likely speak less than Madara and Tobirama.

It’s… a distinctly unexpected realization, considering Mito is married to (and therefore shares a home with) Madara’s closest friend.

Dark eyes are watching him again. Tobirama has finally sussed out an approximation of the Uchiha’s startlingly limited field of vision, and he’s inside it, with only a few feet and the corner of the table between them. He makes a point of returning the stare rather than update his notes. (He’s so very close to trials that his fingers itch to record the last additional observations he'd wanted to make before proposing that line of thought.)

“She isn’t aware of the state of my eyes,” Madara finally replies. His jaw is tense as he says it. His frown isn’t directed at his tea, however--rather some indefinite, insignificant space in between. So it’s discomfort with the admission of vulnerability--so much as a man like Madara is capable of being physically vulnerable--rather than some perceived notion that Tobirama somehow had pressed him into giving voice to that vulnerability again.

Regardless, he makes… a somewhat valid point. The final negotiations are meant to take place among the Hyuuga clan’s traditional lands. The delegation will travel with a slow, diplomatic convoy including non-combatants and celebratory gifts as a show of good faith and respect for the clan’s traditions. While he has no doubts regarding Mito’s capabilities in battle, should an enemy take advantage of the now rare opportunity to find village leadership aware from the others, the aftermath could be disastrous. Tobirama is painfully familiar with the potential dangers of an ally hiding something unexpected that could be exploited by either the very wise or very lucky.

(He doesn’t want to think of finding the hidden injury on Kawarama’s side that day; it would mean remembering tucking a too-small body into a tiny grave. He tries not to remember the nauseating guilt that had so quickly choked out his despair. That Kawarama had seen Tobirama brush off a wound in the previous battle--“I’ll be strong like Tobirama!”--that he, a sensor, had missed his own little brother’s injury.

If they’d known he’d been injured beforehand, Kawarama never would’ve been sent out that day.)

He grimaces.

Worse, when he looks up from his suddenly unappetizing tea, Madara's gaze is intent. Even without the sharingan, the Uchiha all seem to possess an almost startling, single-minded focus on the object of their curiosity or wariness--their clan head perhaps more than most, Tobirama has finally reconciled. Unfortunate, in this particular instance.

Tobirama has no indication of how much Hashirama has shared with Madara about the circumstances of Itama and Kawarama's deaths. He's aware that they've spoken of the matter in general, at least as children, but then... he has never even heard the names of Madara and Izuna's lost siblings spoken. There's no hint as to whether or not Madara knows enough to be aware of the grim turn to Tobirama's thoughts.

Either way, this is one subject that he realizes that... he almost trusts Madara to know better than to strike at.

Surprisingly (or perhaps unsurprisingly, if Tobirama chooses to give the man credit), Madara shifts his gaze toward the open window, crosses his arms, and folds himself into a deceptively lazy posture to shift the focus of the topic. "Kagami will accompany us."

Tobirama narrows his eyes, "Kagami is a child."

Dark eyes shift back to Tobirama, accompanied by a smirk, "A child who is exceptionally skilled at making friends." That... is not what Tobirama expected. He maintains his frown until he fully understands Madara's intentions. Madara reads his suspicion and bristles. Good. "The Hyuuga clan head has three children, who are very dear to her."

Ah. Some of the tension bleeds from Tobirama's spine, "If Kagami wishes to go.”

Madara smirks.

  


Kagami agrees. Enthusiastically.

For the following week, the young Uchiha speaks of little else in the time spent between training sessions, barring the occasional question about the mission or the Hyuuga. Tobirama finds no fault with that aside from his own concerns. Those, he’s aware, generally reach into the realm of paranoia; anyone willing to attack a convoy guarded by both Senju Tobirama and Uchiha Madara, much less the other three shinobi accompanying them, are foolish or desperate indeed.

Nevertheless, Tobirama is entirely aware that one desperate attacker’s misstep could be the difference between a fruitless, ameature ambush and absolute disaster.

(He wonders, briefly, what he would’ve thought of his own misgivings a year ago. It unsettles him to think just how much the seeing the reality of the peace of the village has changed his perspective.)

Tobirama has endured much over a lifetime, but he suspects that losing a student under his care--particularly one as dear to him as Kagami has already become--would shatter him along the faultlines.

While the convoy prepares to leave, Tobirama signals Kagami aside and presents him with a marked kunai. “Keep this with you at all times,” he instructs. He suspects that he doesn’t entirely maintain the gravity that he wishes, considering Kagami is buzzing with so much energy, he hasn’t stopped rocking back and forth on his heels since he arrived with Madara.

Then again, as soon as he examines the kunai, Kagami stills entirely. His eyes widen, and he looks up at Tobirama with a wide smile, “Is that…?”

Tobirama nods solemnly. “Keep this with you,” he reiterates, pressing the kunai into his student’s hands, “Should you run into trouble, flare your chakra. I’ll sense it.”

Kagami all but tackles Tobirama. It takes a shameful span of several seconds to realize the young Uchiha has thrown his arms around his waist. It’s made somewhat awkward, considering their armor and the fact that Tobirama is still processing more than a little shock. “Thanks, sensei!” Kagami beams as he steps back and tucks away the kunai, “You’re the best.”

Hashirama’s (and lately Izuna’s) occasional rumor to the contrary, Tobirama’s face is not _stuck like that_. Rather, he allows himself a small smile and ruffles Kagami’s curls.

A snort draws Tobirama’s leer to Madara, who has apparently deigned to join them. Arms folded arrogantly over the familiar red armor, he very much looks the part of the Uchiha clan head. It’s… odd, seeing the man in full armor, knowing full well they stand on the same side. “Honestly, Senju,” he drawls, tilting his head to the Nara, Akimichi, and Yamanaka clan shinobi finishing the final preparations for their departure, “Those three would be more than sufficient to deal with any… _issues_. You or I alone would be more than overkill.”

...Tobirama will later deny that he stares, brow pinched and uncomprehending, for far longer than he intends. Madara, apparently noticing his accidental misstep, scowls and immediately snaps his line of sight to the others, no doubt purposefully hiding behind his hair. After all, the others are too far out of his field of vision for him to actually oversee any preparations from this distance. Interesting. Perhaps all of that hair _does_ have a purpose, aside from the aesthetics and obvious taunt in battle.

Regaining his higher mental faculties, Tobirama lifts his brows, feigning surprise. Perhaps it’s more than a bit undercut but the smirk he feels tugging at his lips, “Did you just--”

“ _Shut up, Senju_ ,” Madara hisses like a cat tossed into a basin of water. What he apparently fails to anticipate is that his bristling causes him to shift just enough for Tobirama to glimpse the indigent red spread across his face. _Excellent._ In these times of peace, there’s hardly quite a thrill that matches flustering a man like Uchiha Madara. “It wasn’t a compliment; it was a _fact_.”

Tobirama lifts a brow skeptically. Even if the bastard can’t directly see it, he sincerely hopes Madara can sense enough of it to get the point across. “Are your compliments usually based in fallacies then?” he counters dryly.

All but sputtering, the Uchiha spins on heel, abandoning his hurt pride over his red-tinted face and storms the two steps between them. Tobirama stands his ground casually just to watch the man’s ire soar up close. “You know _exactly_ \--”

“Hey, you two!”

The smirk slides from Tobirama’s face just as Madara’s posture straightens from belligerent aggression to mild surprise. Frankly, Tobirama… perhaps sympathizes. Hashirama is the only one who dares to step between the two of them, and that voice was _not_ Hashirama’s. Tobirama turns his gaze to Nara Shion, who tips her head lazily toward the civilians.

At least two of them have apparently been watching what easily could’ve been misinterpreted as an argument to someone incapable of distinguishing their words.

Damn.

Akimichi Chouko emerges from behind the small wagon, containing the traditional gifts to the Hyuuga, with Torifu following at her side. She smiles and good-naturedly claps one of the wary civilians on the shoulder. “Everything’s ready to go, Uchiha.”

Madara blinks. Tobirama frowns curiously. The man almost seems… surprised at the friendly address.

A thought for another time, perhaps--too many data points missing for any conclusive suppositions.

Clearing his throat ( _as though that abates any of the previous atmosphere_ ), Madara collects himself into the proper decorum of the mission leader. Tobirama folds his arms across his armor, less than impressed. ( _Not,_ he decides, _disappointed at the abrupt conclusion of the bickering while he had held the upper hand_.) “Very well,” the Uchiha replies, stalking forward toward the civilians, apparently ignoring the way several of them further tense, “Do _not_ stray from the convoy without a shinobi. Keep pace. We have a deadline to make.”

Tobirama valiantly resists the urge to roll his eyes. While he hasn’t been assigned to as many escort missions as Touka, he’s endured enough of them to know that they’ll stop before noon. Judging by the put-upon sigh from Shion, he isn’t the only one who thinks as much.

“Sensei?”

Tobirama acknowledges Kagami with a curious look.

The young Uchiha smiles impishly, “For Madara-sama, that _was_ a compliment.”

With an amused smile, Tobirama gives into the impulse to ruffle Kagami’s hair one more time. “I’m aware,” he replies, nodding toward Torifu, who has been sneaking glances at Kagami since he’d come into view. “Akimichi clan members are accustomed to working in groups,” he suggests, “Perhaps you could discuss a strategy, should we encounter any danger.”

Judging by Kagami’s grin, he doesn’t misunderstand the offer under Tobirama’s guise of proper mission decorum. Good. Amusing flustering aside, Madara _does_ have something of a point about the minimal amount of danger a threat would pose. “Sure, sensei!” the boy chirps. He makes a proper show of speeding up to fall into step with Torifu without seeming the excitable youth he technically is in front of the non-combatants. After all, they _have_ agreed to put their faith in the shinobi they still have little reason to trust to be something other than clan-centric mercenaries at best.

Still… there is something distinctly awe-inspiring, Tobirama thinks, to have survived to see a time in which he can safely allow such an offer. Two years ago, any student of a shinobi as notorious in the fighting as Tobirama would be a high priority target as such a young age, regardless of what Hashirama and Madara had set as ground rules about children on the battlefield. As he takes up a position guarding the tail of the convoy, his eyes shift to Madara, who mirrors him at the head of the small procession.

Sometimes, Tobirama thinks with a glance at the civilians who continue to spare Madara, in particular, cautious looks, it’s all too easy to forget that the village and the safety it provides was as much Madara’s dream as it is Hashirama’s.

Rather than follow that trail of thought, Tobirama splits his focus between his casual awareness of the surrounding area and prioritizing which potential eye treatments are least likely to risk further damage.

  


Entirely unsurprisingly, they stop for lunch. Then dinner. Then to rest for the night when the sun sets. Tobirama reads the increasing irritation in Madara’s frown, but he doubts that anyone, save perhaps Shion, sees it as clearly. After all, if he were feeling especially dry-humored, Tobirama would blandly declare himself a connoisseur of Uchiha ire.

While he is pleased that Madara hides it, Tobirama does not applaud the man for disguising it. That would imply that it had been reasonable to neglect that Madara’s admittedly impressive stamina and resilience are uncanny among most shinobi, much less those without the ability to mold chakra and destroy sizable mountains with their doujutsu. Regardless, Tobirama holds his tongue.

Away from the village, they maintain the mutual agreement to tolerate one another. For the most part, that practically translates to taking up posts at opposite ends of the convoy. In all honesty, there simply isn’t anything to argue over in the first place: the route of travel has been explicitly planned, there are  no organized groups to cause trouble in the area, and both of them are of a similar mind regarding the Hyuuga. Kagami continues to shoot increasingly suspicious looks between them the longer they go without hissing insults at one another’s intelligence and general attitude. Tobirama partially expects concern for their health is what has the young Uchiha shuffling back and forth between them when Torifu is busy helping his mother.

The civilians apparently take the distinct professionalism and organization as a signal to calm significantly. By the time they arrive, Chouka has made no less than three new friends, and Yamanaka Ichiro has received a marriage proposition.

Tobirama senses the chakra signatures well before they arrive. There are no Hyuuga dispersed among the forest. Then again, he supposes their eyes make such a thing fairly redundant aside from the typical scattering of patrols. Madara aims a look over his shoulder. Tobirama nods simply to keep up the farce that Madara’s sight is in perfect condition. He makes a signal to Shion, Chouka, and Ichiro to remain with the non-combatants. As soon as that order is confirmed, he increases his pace to fall in next to a stone-faced Madara, who already has Kagami in tow.

Hyuuga Kaoru greets them at the gates with her cousin and three children. Her cousin wears a band of cloth over his forehead. Tobirama frowns despite himself.

The Hyuuga matriarch bows, and her cousin follows suit. “We are honored by the Hokage’s generosity,” she says solemnly.

Madara makes no move to return the gesture. Instead he glances back to motion the remainder of the convoy that it's safe to approach. “The _village’s_ generosity,” he amends, “These people are volunteers.”

...Tobirama feels the sudden, acute desire to ram his elbow into Madara’s ribs. Perhaps that would jar him into recalling that collecting a favor was not the same as volunteering.

The Uchiha tilts his head toward Tobirama, “Senju Tobirama. He'll be joining in Hashirama’s stead.”

Unlike Madara, Tobirama is polite enough to bow. “Brother sends his sincerest apologies for not being available to join the talks in person,” he adds, “He and Mito are currently attending a festival at the daimyo’s request.”

(Tobirama valiantly tries not to remember that, as a result, Izuna is left as acting Hokage until they return for Madara to re-establish some semblance of order over whatever inevitable chaos awaits them.

Touka may or may not demand a sparring session in retribution.)

Kaoru hums thoughtfully. Her eyes fall curiously to Kagami, whose shoulder Madara has rested a hand since their approach. Apparently that was entirely intentional, as Madara smiles. To anyone who knows the man, it’s a look with a frankly obscene depth of hidden self-satisfaction. “Uchiha Kagami,” he introduces, “Our student.”

Tobirama blinks. Kagami’s chakra swirls with surprise. With a glance, Tobirama decides to commend him later for maintaining an appropriate expression for the situation in spite of the unexpected declaration.

For the first time, Tobirama sees a typically stoic Hyuuga’s brows raise. There are only a hand full of rare instances in which shinobi share students. 

Madara doesn’t smirk, but there’s a distinct hint of pleasure around his eyes. Apparently this is very much part of his plan. As such, Tobirama forces himself to remain as outwardly non-pulsed as possible despite his own irritation. _Technically_ , he supposes, it’s not a lie to begin with; it’s the _implication_ …

“I see,” Kaoru replies, gathering her bearings. She gestures to the branch member accompanying her, “My cousin has offered to see to it that your people are settled in.” Her gaze slides back to Kagami, softening a bit. She mirrors Madara by settling a hand on her oldest child’s shoulders. “Minoru is close to your age, Kagami. I’m certain he and his siblings wouldn’t mind accompanying you.” The boy nods his agreement, expression guarded but curious. Kagami hesitates and glances back at Torifu. Kaoru allows herself a small smile. “Your teammate as well, if he chooses.”

As soon as Madara accepts that those are acceptable suggestions, Kagami and the Hyuuga children break from the group to go collect Torifu. Kaoru’s cousin approaches Shion, who has been tasked with overseeing the safety of the non-combatants.

The moment that the focus of the group has splintered into individual tasks, Kaoru’s solemn expression falls into something far grimmer. “I will show you to your quarters for the duration of the meeting.”

Dark eyes slide curiously to Tobirama, who finds himself more than a little surprised by the silent question therein. It isn’t that he’s unfamiliar with similar behavior from Madara; it happens frequently with Hashirama and Izuna. Tobirama is still very much unaccustomed to falling into the same category.

This is a mission, however, so he dismisses his own thoughts on the matter and shakes his head discreetly. No. He doesn’t think that this is a trap. The Hyuuga are solemn by culture, but he can sense nothing that feels of intense hostilities or killing intent. Something _is_ off, however. An undercurrent of tension permeates a number of shinobi in the area, including the clan head herself, but it isn’t anything kin to the tension of those expecting a physical confrontation.

Madara tips his head, apparently agreeing.

As Izuna has made his motto as of late, if Tobirama and Madara agree, it’s worth considering.

They follow Kaoru to a large building that she informs them is the clan head’s residence. A small wing off to the side of the house serves as quarters for honored guests. Tobirama can certainly find no fault with the efforts to create a formal, tranquil atmosphere. The small garden traditional styling are fairly appealing.

However, there is the matter of Kaoru’s tension, which builds to an apex as she finally steps in front of a shoji door to address Madara. “I know what you intend to do, Uchiha,” she declares softly, neither her expression nor chakra giving away any hint as to her mood. Madara, naturally, interprets this as an attempt at offense and narrows his eyes. Kaoru dismisses his response with a wave of her hand. “I can’t actively support such a notion without risking contention among the main family with _other_ decisions I’ve recently made for the clan’s future. You understand my meaning?”

Madara is frowning; it seems he absolutely understands her meaning but isn't pleased with the passiveness. Tobirama, all too familiar with that look, sets a hand on the Uchiha’s shoulder--or, rather, the armor over his shoulder--to intentionally shock him out of whatever argument is about to come out of his mouth. While the tactic works flawlessly, with Madara dropping his complaints to stare suspiciously at Tobirama, it also draws Kaoru’s gaze back and forth between the two of them. Unfortunate. “Perfectly,” Tobirama replies in Madara’s stead. He feels the Uchiha’s chakra tense and swirl irritably, but he interrupts that as well. “Are there others who share a similar viewpoint?”

Madara settles a fraction, glancing curiously between the two of them. Tobirama returns his hand to his side.

Kaoru hesitates but ultimately nods, “The branch family, naturally. Some among the main family.” She steps back and gestures toward the room. “Minoru will bring Kagami here. The final talks will begin following evening meal. Until then, please collect your thoughts.”

By silent agreement, they wait until Kaoru is out of immediate sight. “Thoughts, Senju?” Madara finally prompts.

“Nothing that you aren’t already aware of,” Tobirama replies, sliding the door open. He pauses a moment, intentionally bringing Madara’s full attention back to him. “Did you bring me here just to imply that you’re sleeping with the Hokage’s brother?”

Madara snorts and shuffles in behind him. He unceremoniously drops his travel pack in the middle of the floor. Tobirama leers his disapproval, but Madara pays him no mind as he digs through it to produce a dark yukata. “Their assumptions aren't my fault; I merely stated a fact,” he points out blandly. Unfortunate. Tobirama was rather looking forward to flustered outrage. Deft hands quickly make short work of pulling off layers of armor. At least that is set aside with some degree of care. He pauses, dark eyes narrowing to watch Tobirama curiously, “ _You_  hardly corrected her.”

Tobirama snorts and works at the fastenings on his own armor. “Defusing your unnecessary fit of temper,” he dismisses.

Madara lets out a unamused  _hmph_ and slides behind the room divider before the rustling cloth signals his changing. Surprising. Given how arrogant and proud Madara is, he never would’ve expected the man to be modest. Tobirama goes about changing himself, having already agreed that anyone in the role of diplomat shouldn’t attend the meetings and signings armed or in full armor. Mito had made that  _exceedingly_ clear. “I told you that I needed a fuinjutsu expert,” Madara harps as he steps out after a moment, “That dour face of yours doesn’t exactly hurt.”

...Tobirama very much blames the prior conversation for the unfortunate realization that Madara, while an absolute bastard, also happens to be devastatingly attractive.

He scowls and quickly focuses on straightening his own formal clothing rather than permit that thought the slightest bit of ground.

“Exactly,” Madara chuckles, which naturally doesn’t help, and settles in at the table with a scroll. “Hurry up. I want to finish reviewing which of these terms are unacceptable before Nara reports in.”

This, Tobirama realizes sourly, will be a very long week.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there everyone! Look at that! Not massive wait for the next chapter! Apparently I don't get as stressed out if I don't push myself for a deadline. That said, I'm hoping to participate in the the MadaTobi week happening over on Tumblr if I can swing it, so this may end up being the last chapter until that's over. Speaking of... If you'd like, feel free to chat with me over on [Tumblr](https://thatrandomnpc.tumblr.com)! It's kind of my goal to be a bit more active over there since it forces me to take some breaks. 
> 
> Anyway, as always, you lovely people really make my day, and I can't thank you enough for that right now! Thank you all for the support despite the wait for the last chapter! It really meant the world to me that you all were happy about seeing another chapter! I hope that you enjoy this one, even if I'm still trying to work out how to write fight scenes with any degree of skill and am honestly just a bit insecure about it. I am, however, very excited for the next one. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! As usual, no beta, so all typos have completely escaped my notice, and I apologize in advance.

Dinner with the Hyuuga is a predictably formal affair.

Tobirama sits to Madara's right hand with Kagami at his other side. Kaoru faces Madara, leaving Tobirama under the scrutiny of Kaoru's mother, Hisano, the former clan matriarch and current elder. Tobirama politely ignores her as he eats. If she believes that he can be so easily intimidated but this sort of hostile propriety, clearly she had never had the occasion to meet his father. It’s as ill-suited a tactic against Madara, who only grows more and more stubborn and inflexible under that sort of scrutiny.

Tobirama knows; he’s attempted as much on the man before.

Kaoru's cousin, whom Tobirama now knows is called Daichi, sits between the two groups. An honorary position, he recalls from Madara's records on Hyuuga customs: one that signifies a readiness to defend the clan leaders if necessary.

He also recalls more than a hint of Madara's own derision for the practice sliding into the summary--the implied _Uchiha clan heads defend themselves_. The notes had been... incredibly detailed, much to his satisfaction. (He supposes that much should really be expected from a high caliber shinobi with experience as a clan leader as well as a holder of a doujutsu built for eidetic memory recall. Even in their more hostile days, he has noted Madara's eye for detail.) The issue of the seal, however, had not been the only place in which Madara's feelings on various practices had been more than obvious from just the reading. Perhaps that much is an advantage, as Tobirama knows, more or less, where the Uchiha stands on most topics involving the Hyuuga even if they haven't had the time to discus them all.

Kagami, at least, seems to be enjoying himself. He’s acceptably discrete about sending looks at Kaoru’s oldest that have the pair smiling in spite of the tension among the adults. 

Conversation is otherwise stilted. Kaoru makes a valiant attempt at easing the air with questions regarding some of the latest developments in the village--particularly the Academy, as her youngest child will be the proper age to enroll once the Hyuuga are officially a part of the village. Tobirama directs that portion of the conversation with some input from Kagami, considering several of his friends are students. Madara, after all, has little interest in teaching, generally speaking, which had more than a little to do with Tobirama’s lingering surprise over the man claiming Kagami as an exception.

Hisano, clearly, is one of the main family who is still unconvinced that joining the village will end in the clan’s favor and frowns disapprovingly at the idea of any Hyuuga child attending a standardized academy. Tobirama expects that Kaoru has conveniently managed to appease her mother’s desire for propriety and discreetly hint that she will be the major obstacle to overcome, should they manage to achieve Madara’s objectives. Clever woman, he commends. That is the sort of level head is sorely needed among some of the more heated council meetings. 

Near the end of the meal, it suddenly becomes blatantly apparent why Madara insisted on Tobirama attending.

The man lounges as he sets aside his cup and abruptly says, “Tobirama has a particular interest in fuinjutsu.”

Tobirama feels the tension of every Hyuuga in the room snap to attention. Kaoru’s eyes tellingly shift to Daichi first with what he believes to be the tempest of concern coloring the flow of her chakra. The man is rigid, hands suddenly knotted in the fabric at his knees but says nothing.

With a deceptively placid look toward Madara that promises retribution later, Tobirama nods and sets down his bowl. Madara is _very_ fortunate that Tobirama is adaptable enough to finish weaving his trap without any warning. “With the unexpected growth of the village, we now guard the majority of clan secrets in Fire Country,” he states, “I would be interested to know if the seal could be adapted to inanimate objects--scrolls and like.”

It would be horribly impolite to leave such a statement unaddressed. They are all _very_ much aware of this. More telling, however, it would raise suspicions on something regarded as a relatively harmless fail-safe.

Hisano’s eyes narrow. He takes note that _she_ is the one to answer with a terse “It cannot.”

Tobirama tilts his head, feigning polite, innocuous intrigue. He _is_ genuinely curious; he merely needs to temper his own disapproval about the high potential of misuse for such a thing. “Then it only functions in relation to live biological matter, then? Perhaps I've misunderstood.”

Madara lifts his cup for a long drink, but Tobirama is seated at such an angle that he can obviously see the bastard’s smirk.

Something shifts in Kaoru’s chakra. Tobirama lacks the president with this particular woman to know what emotions to assign to it. Her expressive gives no other indication as she turns to Daichi, “Perhaps we could assist in easing their minds?”

A brief glimmer of disbelief and hurt cloud Daichi’s expression before he falls into the epitome of a stoic guard. Tobirama sees hints of a silent conversation between the cousins, much to Hisano’s apparent displeasure, but he also lacks the lexicon to decipher that. He can make a reasonable assumption, however, given how Daichi’s rigid posture settles a fraction as he nods, “If you wish, cousin.”

Hisano is effectively hemmed in by her own rules: she can’t overrule a direct, explicit request from the current clan head without justification, and Tobirama has made no mention of his reasoning aside from curiosity with a technique that the clan officially maintains isn’t abused. Insofar as appearances are concerned, Kaoru intends to convince them that the entire practice is necessary and relatively innocuous. Combined with Tobirama’s own comment, to refute his question would also be to confirm their suspicions that the seal can be triggered by means other than the death of its bearer.

Madara, naturally, is all too smug about his choices in delegation.

In the following negotiations, after the children have left and the remainder of the Hyuuga leaders join them, he and Madara pay penance for the bold move by being forced to make several minor concessions. Tobirama is of the mind that nothing of truly import has been lost; rather, he would argue, some ground has been gained. Despite Madara’s sense of pride, the Hyuuga haven’t asked for anything truly outlandish for the most part. The majority of the work is monotonous but standard. 

As soon as they’ve finalized the first section of the terms, Kaoru announces the adjournment of the talks for the afternoon. Only then does Daichi approach, “If you would follow me?”

Tobirama feels the weight of Madara’s stare. He would make some sort of gesture, but he’s all too aware that the Uchiha likely wouldn’t see it clearly with the distance between them. He _does_ recall that Madara’s sensory capabilities, while not quite to Tobirama’s virtually instinctive intensity, are hardly lacking. On a whim, he sends a soft pulse of chakra. The Uchiha blinks, the sour frown suddenly dropped from his face as his spine straightens. Dark eyes slide to Tobirama’s direction, considering, for only a moment before Hisano says something that pulls Madara’s attention back.

Tobirama dismisses it and turns to follow Diachi. He steps outside when he feels the wash of fiery chakra rush across his senses. To a normal sensor, it would be nothing particularly noteworthy, save for the fact that it had come from someone as powerful as Madara; like Hashirama, he's unmistakable when not actively masking himself. For being in such close quarters to Tobirama, who is more often than not at least casually aware of chakra signatures, the sensation overrides his other senses for the briefest of moments. 

For an instant, he can smell smoke.

When he glances back, Madara isn't looking at him, but the corner of his lips are curled into a self-satisfied smirk. Arrogant Uchiha. 

“Senju?” That is Kaoru, he realizes. She has followed them outside. “Are you well?”

Tobirama clears his throat, nods, and pointedly does not engage with Madara any further. After all, he’d only meant to relay information. _Madara_ was the one to turn it into a--

_A game._

This is a _game_.

He very nearly freezes a second time. He’s fortunate that Daichi and Kaoru are polite and reserved enough to refrain from comment if they notice the pause.

That is… unexpected, but it rings true when he reexamines their interactions over the past few weeks through the lens of that realization. They bicker and argue, some topics more heated than other, but the near-violent edge of mutual resentment has eased substantially. Tobirama no longer actively dreads the days he spends in Madara’s company, and Madara is no longer so visibly enraged at Tobirama’s presence as to prematurely disadvantage their standing on this mission.

He allows himself a moment of composure as he steps inside a new building behind Kaoru and Daichi. Unexpected though it is, such information is hardly world-shaking, and Tobirama is quick to adapt. More importantly…

He expects that they have approximately half-an-hour before Madara’s temper necessitates rescuing him from Hisano.

As soon as the door closes, Daichi’s entire disposition shifts from polite, reserved guard to furious and wary. “Are you sure of this, cousin?” he asks Kaoru.

Tobirama lifts a brow, “You mean to ask if we intend to treat the entiretyof the Hyuuga clan fairly. That _is_ our intention.”

Daichi’s eyes widen fractionally. He swallows and visible composes himself. Tobirama can imagine, with the secrecy that Kaoru has gone to lengths for, that such a sentiment being voiced aloud is a rare thing, indeed. He frowns grimly, as that all but confirms at least some of Madara’s suspicions. “I see,” Daichi replies, eyes taking on a touch more suspicion, “We were under the impression that the Hokage is willing to accept _all_ Hyuuga traditions.”

“My brother believes that the protection of the village will eventually eliminate the rationale for certain traditions and therefore eliminate the tradition itself given time,” Tobirama explains. The dubious looks on the cousins’ faces tell him that he had not been wrong to be more inclined toward Madara’s insight instead. “Madara voiced concerns that I’m inclined to agree with.”

Kaoru nods gravely, “I will be frank. That Senju and Uchiha stand united before us will set some minds at ease. Some feared that the village’s stability wouldn’t survive your brother.”

Tobirama… doesn’t especially relish the thought of surviving Hashirama in general. It sits ill at ease with him, even in the vaguest of terms.

Daichi nods his agreement, “We _must_ join Konoha to survive, but... “

“Answer me this,” Tobirama says in the silence, “Is the seal’s only purpose to prevent the Byakugan from being stolen.”

The cousins share a grim look. Diachi reaches hesitantly to unwind the bandages around his forehead.

Tobirama sees red.

 

 

 

With the newfound, conscious internalization of the paradigm shift between himself and Madara, Tobirama doesn't bother restraining himself from storming into room used for the talks, physically collecting a baffled Madara by the bicep, offering Hisano and her kin a terse “ _Excuse us_ ,” and proceeding to drag him toward the guest rooms. He vaguely hears Madara mutter some excuse about meeting with their other shinobi, but Tobirama is furious past the point of pleasantries. He only pauses when, halfway back, Madara finally makes good on his hissed threats and superior physical strength and rips his arm out of Tobirama’s grip.

“What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing, Senju?” he demands, face tense with incredulous anger. _This_ , some part of Tobirama’s mind tells him, is the difference between their interactions a year ago and now. Madara isn’t posturing this time; he truly is angry. “Do you have any idea--”

“It can destroy the brain from the inside,” Tobirama snaps in a quiet hiss. Furious though he is, being overheard could be disastrous for future plans. “Agonizingly, I imagine. _That_ is its secondary purpose. That seal is made on _children_.”

Under nearly any other circumstance, watching the fury on Madara’s face fall into startled surprise would be more than a bit amusing. The Uchiha’s eyes narrow quickly enough for a reason other than Tobirama's abrupt abduction. He takes a moment to compose himself under the guise of brushing the wrinkles out of his sleeve. “You have a plan then?” Madara finally asks. Tobirama scowls. The Uchiha rolls his eyes. “One that _doesn’t_ involve explaining to Hashirama that you’ve managed to drown a former clan head and lost the village an assured ally.”

Tobirama does not, in fact, have a plan--only pieces of one at best--nor does he particularly appreciate the implication regarding his patience. He says as much about the former.

Madara nods slowly, eyes calculating, “Fortunately, I may have something.” Tobirama tips his head curiously. “Not here,” the Uchiha says, gaze in the general direction of approaching chakra signatures, “Tomorrow morning.”

Tobirama nods. Acceptable.

The issue is dropped that night, and they return to their allotted room. Kagami has sequestered the table to open the scroll Tobirama had given him to study between training sessions. Even if the young Uchiha’s parents had been killed before he had completed a basic education beyond battle and survival techniques, he’s something of a quick study. Perhaps, Tobirama thinks as a fraction of his rage temporarily thaws, studying with Torifu has been something of a boon as well.

Kagami, for the most part, ignores their entrance and continues to poke at his chin with the back of his brush. Torifu’s attention, however, slides past Tobirama to stare at Madara as though he’s surprised by the man’s presence. The boy is quick to adapt, Tobirama has noticed, and shifts his attention back to the scroll.

Good. Chouko is right to be proud of her son.

Tobirama settles in, pulling out one of his storage scrolls to retrieve a detailed text on chakra pathways. Having shared close quarters with Hashirama for the better part of his life, he’s become exceptionally skilled at ignoring the majority of background noise and movement when he’s enthralled with a project.

He has not quite been as wholly enveloped with a project as he is with the issue of Madara’s eyes since he’d shut himself in his room for three days to finish his work on the Hirashin seal.

Madara apparently claims a seat at the table with the boys because he’s seated next to Kagami when Tobirama glances up from his reading some time later. Whatever apprehensions Torifu may have initially harbored regarding the man have apparently been settled, considering he is shoulder-to-shoulder with Kagami to pour over the younger Uchiha’s scroll. He assumes they're both working on solutions since Torifu now also has writing utensils. Tobirama catches a glimpse of his own depiction of a familiar diagram, meaning that they’ve arrived at the difficult problems intended to emphasize the application of pattern recognition.

(He may not be equipped to teach Kagami to use his Sharingan, but he can reinforce some of Madara's lessons in other forms.)

Compared to the boys, Madara leans back slightly rather than forward and over the scroll. He watches while Kagami chews at his lip and writes a hasty answer, only to immediately cross it out when Torifu points out a fallacy in the solution. The older Uchiha has tied his hair back, which is enough to give Tobirama some pause. He eyes dip unbidden to the exposed curve of Madara's neck when he leans forward enough to tap at something on the scroll with a soft smirk and a “You’ve forgotten about this, brat.” His temper still hasn't fully cooled, judging by the way he carries his tension, but his expression is lighter--softer--while he watches the new round of solutions with amusement. 

Tobirama blinks and fervently commits to focusing on his reading.

Touka was correct, he laments; he has... somewhat questionable taste in men.

 

 

 

The following morning, Kaoru and Daichi are slated to escort them around the Hyuuga's traditional lands. The intention, Tobirama understands, is to make them available to answer questions from the clan at large rather than those raised solely by the leadership. It's a somewhat surprisingly egalitarian gesture that Madara's report implied his approval of, even if he seems to consider it a bit tedious. Tobirama intends to use the opportunity to estimate clan unity and attitudes toward the merger thus far. 

What does not escape his notice, however, is that Madara is somewhat sluggish to rise. Alert instantly, yes, but he nearly winces against the influx of light and waits with his eyes closed in a nearly meditative posture when he's finished preparing for the day. 

Eye strain, perhaps. They _had_ spent the better part of the evening reading documents, after all.

He has no time to mention it as the Hyuuga arrive and are welcomed inside by Kagami.

Madara stands and crosses his arms. He looks more himself in his typical clothing. “A word, Hyuuga,” he says, tilting his head toward Tobirama, “Considering what we now know, Hashirama would not be so passive about our... _issue_.” Tobirama is inclined to agree. Hashirama is not the sort of man who could allow such a thing under his watch. 

Kaoru sighs but nods, pale eyes falling to the tatami, “I thought as much.”

“We could inform Hashirama and force the issue,” Madara points out, “Yet I think we can all agree that route is likely to breed long-term hostility.”

Also a fair point. The situation, as a result, leaves them with an frustratingly limited number of options.

Unless…

“I’ve already explained my dilemma, Uchiha,” Kaoru defends, eyes narrowed.

The set to Madara's jaw is stubborn. He won't be easily moved like this. “And now I will explain ours. How long have you felt this way about the system?” Kaoru hesitates, but her eyes shift tellingly to her cousin. They’re close in age and were likely encouraged to play together as children from what Tobirama understands. Madara lifts his brows in a challenge, “And yet it remains.”

“Uchiha,” Tobirama warns, lest the alienate their closest allies in this.

Madara waves off the warning without taking his eyes from Kaoru, “You’re the clan head; we are the outsiders. Whose word, do you think, your clanmates are more likely to take to heart?”

Far simpler, Tobirama thinks, for Madara to say, given that the man has flown in the face of Uchiha tradition since his father’s death. As he understands it, the Uchiha elders hold more of an honorary position than the Hyuuga--a holdover from the fighting, when a discrepancy in the chain of command would result in the deaths of more shinobi than they could afford to lose. Tobirama knows because, in some ways, Madara and Hashirama are strikingly similar. The Senju elders have come to dread Hashirama opening his mouth in general. 

It amuses Tobirama to no end, honestly. (Bickering aside, he is incredibly proud of his older brother. Not that he would tell Hashirama as much under normal circumstances; it would make him insufferable for days.)  

“If we sooth the concerns over joining the village, would you be willing you take the opening?” Tobirama offers.

It’s Daichi that speaks up this time, hands curled into fists at his side. He doesn't seem to be able to bring himself to meet Kaoru's eyes, “Cousin, I have never asked for anything from you, but I would ask this. For me. For your children and their children. Please try. Our people… They honored your mother’s strength, but they respect you. If you speak, they will listen.”

Kaoru softens as she turns to her cousin. Finally, she nods, “Very well. You have something in mind?”

Madara smirks, and Tobirama frowns as those dark eyes turn on him. “Senju,” he says, “How long can you last sparring against Hashirama?”

Kagami perks up from his place toward the back of the room. Wide eyes flit between the pair of them while an eager grin pushes past the young Uchiha’s sense of decorum. In that moment, every ounce of Kagami's ancestry shows.

“Half an hour,” Tobirama estimates frankly, “If brother takes the session seriously.”

Assuming, of course, he hasn’t bribed Hashirama into improving his control of his sage chakra, but he hardly has a reason to mention that until the Hyuuga are officially signed into the village.

“Excellent,” Madara replies.

...Tobirama does not know whether to be concerned or intrigued.

 

 

 

Kaoru frames the sparring demonstration as one that she has requested of them. In a roundabout way, he supposes, _technically_ that isn’t entirely a lie, even if the idea itself had originated with Madara. She notifies them that the match is to take place on the afternoon of the fourth day of negotiations. Tobirama spends the majority of the intermittent time sussing out a general estimate of the attitudes in among the clan while making himself and Madara as freely approachable as their dispositions permit.

Kaoru has named the state of the clan fairly. The branch family appears subdued in a way that indicates that there had been an unspoken hope for change at the beginning of the merger with Konoha that has not yet had reason to be rekindled. The main family, however, is divided. There is slight minority, who seemed to have accepted the abolition of the divisions as a potential consequence of entering into Konoha, and there staunch traditionalists and non-combatants. Their main concerns appear to be the idea of entering a village with other renown shinobi clans while facing what could result in a historic instability and division among their own clan. He can't find evidence to suggest the seals are used maliciously, but then... the seal in and of itself is undeniably an an unspoken threat. He would hardly be surprised if some among the branch family were not so resigned to supporting the main family without them. 

Given the concerns, Tobirama suggests that Madara concede to some of the Hyuuga’s more unnecessary safety precautions and is pleasantly surprised when the Uchiha does just that.  

Kagami’s excitement all but reaches visible levels as Tobirama and Madara tug their armor back on the evening of the mock duel. “Keep your Sharingan active as long you comfortably can. Try to copy at least one technique, even if it’s beyond your current skill level to use properly,” Madara firmly instructs as he ties off the last piece of armor, “More importantly, stay with Akimichi _regardless_ of how much you may want a closer look. Do you understand, Kagami?”

Kagami’s growing enthusiasm fades into a pout, “I _know_ , shisou. It was only the  _one_ time.”

Madara pauses at the change of address but recovers well with a soft _tch._  Tobirama dreads to ask what the events of the referenced “one time” were. Regardless, when he spares the older Uchiha a glance, there is… a surprising softness to his eyes. The moment he realizes he’s being watched, Madara turns a silent challenge to Tobirama. For his part, the Senju holds his gaze long enough to prove that he very much understands the intention but ultimately dismisses it as unnecessary.

He is, after all, the one who asked Madara to assist in Kagami’s training to begin with. 

Soon enough, he stands across a clearing from Madara while Kaoru addresses her clan. “I understand that there are doubts that joining Konoha is in our best interests,” she says, “As such, I have asked our esteemed guests to provide a demonstration of the solidarity and strength of the village’s founders so that it may settle those doubts.”

They can’t afford to injure each other aside from scrapes and bruises, lest they feed into the doubts regarding the stability of the village after Hashirama’s term has ended. The point is walk the line between a display of strength and a  _friendly_ mock battle. They are somewhat at a disadvantage in that way, Tobirama knows, considering they’ve never faced each other before--sparring or otherwise. Nevertheless, he... finds himself less concerned than he'd expected. 

As soon as Kaoru gives the signal, Tobirama frees his chakra just in time to counteract the intense pressure of Madara doing the same. Apparently the unhinged Uchiha finds the display acceptable enough that his visible brow lifts in surprise before his lips curl into a pleased grin. Tobirama... is briefly reminded of Madara's fights against Hashirama over a year ago--the elation of two superpowers colliding in a way that would break the average shinobi in seconds. He has no time to look, but he suspects that numerous Byakugan are active and on them now.

Fortunate. No concerns for obscured fields of view. 

Madara moves first, hands deftly flying through seals. _Tiger_ , Tobirama recognizes,  _fire_.  He rushes through his own countermeasures.  

He charges the dragon with more water than strictly necessary. Heated steam backlashes across the divide as a result, throwing the previously sunny field into a temporary fog. He leaves a clone with a solid kunai bearing the Hirashin seal and uses the temporary obstruction in vision to slip into the cover of the trees. Madara will see through the shadow clone in an instant, but he’ll still be forced to waste precious time on getting by it. 

More than that, the clone to lay the groundwork for the trap.

When his foot strikes the canopy, he has seconds to register the rush of the clone’s memories and drop out of the way of the gunbai and the blast of wind that follows. A _tap_ signals Madara’s sandals landing and pushing off from a limb. Tobirama judges the best angle to brace and meets the force of the gunbai with a kunai.

Madara’s grin is boarding on indecent, “Running away already, Senju?”

Tobirama scowls. The force behind the blow is immense, redirected into such a small blade as it is, but he expected nothing less. He shifts footing and allows the pressure to force the gunbai to slide from the kunai to carve out a sizable hole in the ground. The counter kick, he expects after the clone.

Tobirama resolves not to smirk as he raises a forearm to block the kick and feigns an insufficient amount of speed to answer with his own counter attack. Arrogant as always, Madara seems to think little of trying another slash with his gunbai. This one, Tobirama falls into a crouch to dodge and subsequently launches himself through the opening under the Uchiha’s arm to his side. The elbow that slams into his side at the same time his hand makes contact with the _uchiwa_ is acceptable collateral, even if it forces him back.

Madara has the good sense to be wary about the unusual exchange.

“I believe I’m managing just fine, Uchiha,” Tobirama replies in the subsequent lull. He tosses the kunai in the trunk of a tree as though he’s judged it an unfit weapon for this fight and instead decides on his sword.

The tomoe of Madara’s Sharingan spin as though they, too, are as pleased by that declaration as his smirk suggests. The Uchiha rushes, and Tobirama braces to counter and retaliate.

Madara, it seems, is as fast and relentless as Tobirama assumed. He’s perhaps faster than Hashirama and far more aggressive in style but, though he isn't quite Hashirama’s match in defensive measures. Even if his plan didn’t center around being pushed intentionally back from the trees, he doubts he could manage to gain significant ground regardless. He only manages to maintain some by varying his attack and defense patterns as soon as Madara seems to have sufficiently copied them and adjusted. 

That strategy is frustratingly less effective against Madara than it is on Izuna. 

The longer Tobirama counters fire with water and exploding seals and gunbai with blade, the more enthused Madara seems to become. “Come on, Senju!” he challenges, pushing Tobirama back long enough to being a rapid line of unfamiliar hand seals. “Is this all you have?”

The taste of ozone and feeling of statistic. 

Tobirama throws his sword to buy enough of a distraction from Madara’s Sharingan to activate the Hiraishin seal on the kunai at the edge of the forest.

He waits just long enough see the crack of lightning fade to sparks before locking on the seal on Madara’s back. It’s risky in more ways than one. Even in a non-hostile duel, if Madara isn’t _thinking,_  there’s a substantial chance instinct and habit could overrun his better judgement.

However… He won’t deny that they do need something… _flashy_ to finish this.

A show of trust that Madara knows Tobirama will not stab him in the back and that Madara will show him the same courtesy.

A sign that the peace between Senju and Uchiha is genuine and lasting, even if he doubts they would know the significance of the technique to their history.

With a pulse of chakra, he leaps into a teleportation. The Uchiha tenses a fraction too late to stop Tobirama from grabbing his arm and jamming a thumb, coated with just enough chakra to jolt, ruthlessly into the proper nerves. Madara’s fingers open, and the gunbai hits the ground while Tobirama uses his own momentum to push them out of range of their weapons.

Perhaps not the most technically sound plan, but it is effective enough that the single moment of surprise allows him enough time to send them both to the ground.

The mass of hair, Tobirama regrets not calculating for, but he’s hardly ill-equipped for fighting with temporarily obscured vision. He senses Madara’s counter move the moment the Uchiha touches the ground and rolls. Madara is on him again in the span of heartbeat. What follows is one of the most intense series of grapples, breaks, and aborted attempts at ninjutsu Tobirama has been a part of since the day Izuna tricked him into falling back to the river as an escape, only to charge it with electricity.

In the end, Madara manages to lock both of Tobirama’s legs under his weight. In a last effort to prolong the match, Tobirama attempts to buy himself time by rolling and activating another seal.

The moment those Sharingan spin, he knows he’s lost, even before Madara’s elbow knocks him too breathless to stop himself from being fully immobilized.

Tobirama scowls, breathing hard. At least the smug bastard is sufficiently disheveled as well, with what appears to be a twig in his hair and a bead of sweat rolling down the line of his cheek. “Fool me once,” the Uchiha admonishes.

Tobirama shifts his knee pointedly, ignoring the brush of a solid thigh, “You’re _grinning_ like a fool, Uchiha. Let me up.”

There’s a moment of hesitation. Those once dreaded Sharingan flit harmlessly over the strokes of red on Tobirama’s face.

That is…

_Oh._

Tobirama is, frankly, caught too far off guard, adrenaline and exhaustion still warring in his veins, to fully process the implications.

“Sensei! Shisou!”

Madara blinks, Sharingan fading to black. In the span of that brief moment, the clear evidence of surprise on Madara's face is more than enough evidence for Tobirama to know he's aware he's been caught. He rolls off of Tobirama and raises to his feet to greet Kagami, who has apparently run ahead of the Hyuuga with Chouka and Torifu close behind. The boy’s face is delighted, his feet carrying him as fast as they can without managing to accidentally fall into a shunshin. 

He stops to smile up at Madara and then to Tobirama, “That was _amazing!_ ”

Chouka laughs, setting a hand on Kagami’s shoulder, “You may owe the our hosts a new field though.”

Tobirama frowns as he sits up and glances across their mock battleground.

There are scorch marks still lit with fresh embers and smoke in the places that aren’t boasting drenched ground and small holes from the gunbai’s impacts.

Unfortunate. 

Madara huffs and dismisses the damage as the Hyuuga approach. He hesitates a moment, one dark eye peering out from behind his hair. Hesitation, Tobirama understands, in the wake of moments ago. He intentionally raises a brow, mimicking Madara's own silent challenges. Madara counters with a dry, unimpressed expression he's seen aimed at Izuna more often than not. And that, more than anything, is startling.

Madara tenses fractionally; it's only visible if one knows where to look. More tellingly, he resolutely glances away from Tobirama and toward the gathering Hyuuga. With a nearly inaudible huff, he moves, "Stop playing the dirt, Senju." 

Tobirama stares, uncomprehending, at the offered hand.

Though his hair obscures most of Tobirama's view of his profile, there’s a faint dusting of red at the top of his neck. Whether that particular shade is the result of being caught or the exertion of the fight is ultimately irrelevant for the moment. ( _Later, though. That... is  perhaps worth re-examining later._ )

He takes Madara’s hand and allows the Uchiha to help him to his feet, "Says the man with a twig in his hair." His timing is perfect. Kaoru stands before them, cutting off whatever rebuttal Madara may have offered. 

“Quite the demonstration,” Kaoru comments with a politely amused tilt to her expression.

Tobirama conviently busies himself with brushing the dirt and ash from the front half of his collar. 

The mood takes a formal shift as Madara moves to stand in solidarity next to Kaoru to address the Hyuuga as a whole. Tobirama temporarily reorders his thoughts and stands in silent support.

“Konoha was a village founded to ensure that our combined strength and unity would mean a safe harbor for our loved ones to thrive without the constant threat of an early death,” Madara says gravely, “Every shinobi of Konoha is sworn to defend that ideal and the people of the village.”

Tobirama ensures that the pause is meant to linger before adding the perhaps more diplomatic, “We will be honored to lend our strength to the Hyuuga and to have yours at our side." 

The Hyuuga are difficult to read, but there is less tension around Kaoru’s eyes.

Perhaps that display was worth something after all.

Torifu smiles and offers a thumbs up. Judging by the half-muffled, choked off sound, Tobirama suspects that Madara is close enough to see it. 


End file.
